Switching Witches
by SeptimaBode
Summary: "This isn't going to end well, it never does when you say such things." Draco groaned and silently questioned his mate's motives. "Do whatever it is you do, what's the worst that can happen?" Blaise Zabini, firewhiskey, and a spell of his own creation - what could possibly go wrong? EWE, semi-HBP compliant, disclaimer: I own nothing. rated M for mature content.
1. The Dilemma

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Every recogniseable portion belongs to...well, obviously not me. Snippets have been borrowed from JK Rowling in order to procure this particular fanfiction. I do so love playing with her toys.**

 **AN: In order to delve through a ridiculous case of writer's block...this little plot bunny jumped directly into my path. Hopefully things turns out the way I wish. As always, enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

The Dilemma

* * *

Draco Malfoy groaned once more and Blaise for one, had quite enough of his friend's dramatics. He disregarded the wizard in favour of perusing the delectable witches passing their table outside the small café. Personally, he wasn't a fan of allowing himself to be surrounded by Muggles, but Draco had insisted.

Apparently, there were numerous rumours swirling about the Wizarding World concerning his impending arranged marriage. Blaise shivered in revulsion. He couldn't imagine being trapped in such constraints. For the first time in his life, he was quite thankful his mother went through husbands the way others breathed air.

"Would you stop staring at anything with a set of tits and listen to me?"

"What's the point really? You refuse to even entertain the idea of telling your father to stuff it. What is it you'd like to me to do?"

"Are you insane? My father would completely cut me off and I'd rescind my inheritance as well. I'd be…poor." Draco swallowed the bile, which threatened to erupt and shook his head quickly. "Might as well be a bloody Weasley."

"At least the Weasleys can marry whomsoever they choose." Blaise shrugged, quickly losing interest. He was absolutely positive the willowy blonde in the corner was up for a shag.

"That's not the point. They're poor. I can't be poor. I might actually have to work for a living. I might even sweat. Even the thought of such a thing is revolting."

"I can't even comprehend your laments. At least you're on friendly terms with your intended." Blaise waggled his fingers at the blonde, enjoying her 'come hither' smile as he sipped some concoction called a cappuccino.

"Yes, but again, that's not the point. I swear, you're intentionally missing the point to irritate me. She's fine, somewhat attractive I suppose, but she's more like a sister than anything." Draco stared into nothingness, contemplating his lack of options.

"I don't know from what sort of you family you've erupted, but I don't make a habit of fucking my siblings."

"Ugh, don't remind me. It was a colossal error." The pale blond nibbled the corner of his pastry, satisfied with its explosion of apple flavour and crossed his legs.

"I can name more than a few colossal errors and it seems they've all centered around a certain…"

"Don't say it. Don't you dare. You swore, what the fuck kind of best mate are you anyway?" Draco inadvertently tipped over his teacup, clenching his teeth as the tepid liquid dripped onto his pristine dark slacks.

"The sort that puts up with your ridiculousness? I've kept your secrets and considering your father is Lucius Malfoy, I'm particularly proud of that accomplishment. He questioned me you realise?" The tall, burly, dark-haired wizard sighed as the object of his limited affections left the café with a sour looking bint.

"My father questioned you about what exactly?" Draco knew better than to draw his wand, considering their surroundings, yet the seething anger in his voice was almost palpable.

"You know how Lucius is, better than anyone. It seems he suspected you were enamored with a particular unsuitable witch. Don't glower at me, you bloody well know those are his words, not mine. I quite like the girl. I only befriended her for you and for once in my life, I'm satisfied with the results. She's really quite…" Blaise recognised the ire in his friends silvery eyes and instead of continuing his monologue, cleared his throat and sipped his lukewarm Muggle drink.

"I am not, nor have I ever been enamored with her. Curious perhaps, but that was simply due to circumstance. Even my father can't deny the fact it was easier to befriend her than to continue spewing forth the hatred of my ancestors." Draco's voice was low and controlled, but Blaise was curious to see his mate's reactions by pushing the matter.

Draco was nervous, anxious even and Blaise picked it up quickly. He observed the way his mate constantly plucked at his slacks, his grey eyes constantly on the move. They never stayed on any woman long enough to discern interest, which was curious where Draco Malfoy was concerned. He always had his eyes set on a beautiful woman, but then again, that was before.

"She speaks of you at times. She enquires as to your health and whatnot. I've allowed myself to be regaled with stories of your Hogwarts days and haven't minded in the least. She's easy to talk to, and if I were absolutely positive you wouldn't turn me into a great pile of dust, she would replace you as my best mate. In fact, I've discovered she's the first woman, witch or otherwise, I've actually befriended without wanting to shag her senseless." Blaise pursed his lips and waited for the expected outburst.

"How is she? Obviously, I can't ask her for a spot of tea, but it doesn't mean I'm completely heartless. It's more for her protection than anything." The venom had dissipated to the point of nonexistence and Blaise was quite impressed with the projected emotion in his mate's words.

"I am of the opinion she knows. She never asks when we're gallivanting about the Wizarding World. It's always a whispered question over tea, right here in this café actually. It's a personal favourite. She adores their pastries." Draco nodded, examining the crisp pastry carefully before nibbling another corner.

"She's always had exceptional taste." Blaise pretended he hadn't heard the blatant compliment and smiled slightly.

"Except for her boyfriend. Bloody witch has terrible taste when it comes to wizards."

"We're completely off-topic. We are supposed to be discussing my issues with marrying a witch of my father's choosing." Draco stiffened and grit his teeth, refusing to entertain the notion of _his_ witch with such a simpering sop.

"She told me, in confidence of course, you kissed her once." Blaise winked at a delightful redhead, watching her hips sway as she walked passed.

"It was an accident." Blaise had to strain to hear the words and he was positive his mate was completely unaware of his pastry falling to the ground.

"She said the same actually. I would have believed her if her cheeks weren't the colour of a Weasley and her hands hadn't trembled."

"I don't want to marry Astoria." Draco stared at the smattering of flowers along the edge of the china plate as if they held the answer.

Blaise Zabini stared long and hard at the pensive blond. His lip twitched in excitement as the obvious answer to Draco's issues soared to the surface. He knew he was playing with fire, but as a Slytherin, such things never bothered him.

He also knew he would have to hold tight to a secret, which is what troubled him the most. Blaise disliked the idea, but in the end, he hoped it would be worth the sense of betrayal Draco would feel. He convinced himself it was for the better. Surely, even she would see things his way once she learned the truth. Blaise supposed he should be prepared for a hex or two and almost laughed aloud at the idea.

"Leave it to me. Don't ask questions, it's better that way." He gripped Draco's forearm, until the wizard in question met his sparkling dark brown eyes.

"This isn't going to end well, it never does when you say such things." Draco groaned and silently questioned his mate's motives. "Do whatever it is you do, what's the worst that can happen?"

"You wind up married to the Weasel and the Ministry discovers new magicks for homosexual reproduction?"

* * *

"You're Hermione Granger!" Hermione cringed, her steps slowing, while bracing herself for an onslaught of questions revolving around the war.

"Yes, I am, may I help you?" She turned slowly, expecting a bubbly blonde, instead staring into shockingly similar features.

"I'm sure you hear it all the time, but I've heard so much about you. I was much too young to have much to do with the war or any of that unpleasantness, but you were the talk of the Wizarding World for years." The brunette grasped Hermione's hands with an easy smile on plum painted lips.

Hermione's tight smile remained in place, used to such antics. She had never been one to revel in the attentions, but she tolerated them for the sake of propriety more than anything. She knew if Ron had accompanied her, he'd be fawning over the witch and sighed.

"Yes I suppose I was, though my role was peripheral at best. Harry Potter is the true hero, as he _was_ the wizard to end…"

"Of course, but without you it would have been impossible, I mean you're absolutely brilliant. I can't imagine doing half the things you've done, which is exactly why I need your help." The dark eyes narrowed and Hermione straightened her back, instantly recognising the underhanded cunning of a Slytherin.

"I'd inform you I have an appointment, but I don't suppose it would deter you."

"I'm sure you're barraged every moment you step into Diagon Alley and I suppose I'm not much different than the others. However, I'm not beseeching you for monetary aid, or even proposing to introduce you to influential wizards, who can aid whichever cause you're currently supporting. This is personal. If anyone can help me, it's you." Hermione had to admit she was intrigued, though she didn't appreciate being waylaid.

The young witch was absolutely correct in her assumptions. Hermione was incapable of counting the number of times she was approached with 'investment opportunities' or had been introduced to pompous wizards who only sought to have her decorate their arm, while the Daily Prophet followed their every movement. She had easily tired of any and all Ministry functions, keeping her dealings to a minimum to avoid such moments.

"I'm sorry, your name?"

"How embarrassing, it seems I've forgotten my manners. Astoria Greengrass, pleasure to meet you." The young witch curtsied quickly before threading her arm through Hermione's and leading her toward the Leaky Cauldron. "I think it would better suit us both if we continued this conversation away from prying eyes."

"Greengrass, hmm I do believe I attended Hogwarts with your sister, Daphne."

"Please do not compare me to that wretched woman." Astoria frowned, waving quickly to Tom before stepping out into Muggle London. "Blaise told me about the loveliest little café. He swore by it actually and since I know the two of you are quite close, I thought it would be the perfect place to converse, if you're in agreeance of course." Astoria had a bounce in her step Hermione envied.

"As if I have a choice in the matter." Hermione muttered, allowing herself to be dragged along.

She allowed herself to be seated under an imposing umbrella, semi-grateful it managed to shield the floundering sun. Astoria looked to her with wide eyes as the waiter approached their table, tapping his Muggle pen against the small pad in his hand. It became glaringly obvious to Hermione the poor witch hadn't the slightest idea how to traverse the Muggle world.

"Cuppa English Breakfast Tea and Oolong, milk on the side as well as a spot of lemon. Astoria, are you peckish? They do a lovely cucumber sandwich here and the madeleines are absolutely divine." Astoria's head bobbed quickly and Hermione looked to the wearied man with a quick glare until he slowly sauntered away.

"How did you know what I prefer?" Astoria whispered across the table, her dark brown eyes constantly flicking in every direction.

"Malfoy once told me of the Slytherins propensity for English Breakfast Tea and I assumed." Hermione feigned ignorance when it came to Astoria's instant tremble and the subtle way she managed to hide the fact her teeth were buried in her cheek.

"You're well acquainted with Draco Malfoy?" Astoria neatly folded her hands in her lap and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, the witch looked as though she were poised to flee.

"We both happened to return to Hogwarts for our seventh year after the War. I was Head Girl and he was appointed Head Boy. It was impossible not to pick up a few errant facts when forced to work closely together." Hermione resisted the urge to drum her fingers on the mosaic table, instead concentrating on Astoria.

"Thank Merlin." She sighed heavily with relief before continuing, "I can't tell you how relieved I am, you see, my issue is directly concentric to Draco Malfoy, and it would have put you in a terrible position if you were actually friends." Astoria relaxed as much as a pureblood witch possibly could when situated in a completely unfamiliar environment.

"We were friends, but once we left school, I suppose it was best we didn't continue such endeavors. I can't imagine our situation going over well with his father." Hermione silently begged the waiter to arrive with their tea, so she could drink it quickly and depart. The last thing she wanted was to hold a conversation concerning her strange former relationship with Draco Malfoy.

"I'm sorry. I don't expect you to believe me, or anything, but I am. The ways of pureblood society are antiquated notions and demeaning quite honestly. I personally never thought I would be sitting to tea with a Muggle-born witch and yet here I am. Please, don't be offended. I'm nothing like my sister. I never understood the underlying hatred. We're all magical, why does it matter how it came about?" Astoria sighed, her eyes alight as they fell upon a perfectly unremarkable bloke.

"I truly believe we're going to get along just fine." For the first time that day, Hermione Granger relaxed and gifted her companion with a genuine smile. "Now, I do believe you wished to discuss an issue?"

"My parents and the Malfoys have come to an agreement. They plan to announce our perfectly arranged pureblood engagement within the next few weeks." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when their tray of tea and sandwiches arrived, finally giving her hands something to do. "I don't wish to marry him."

"I would have thought it is exactly what you'd wish. If I recall correctly, you had quite the penchant for following Malfoy about." Hermione refrained from mentioning she knew of their intimate relations as it was unseemly.

"I know you're silently judging me and I don't even mind. I'd rather have my freedom than my dignity at this point. I was young, spoilt beyond measure, and hadn't quite learnt to form my own opinions. I wanted what my parents wished for me, until I grew up.

'Ms. Granger, I was fifteen. I'm well aware you had already accomplished much at that age, but I was coddled and I luxuriated in it. It wasn't necessary for me to think, my mother was sure to do it for me. Once I was finished with my schooling, I learned the truth behind the War. I was grateful to have come across your book, without it, I'm sure I never would have learned a thing worth importance from my mother. They were more than willing to allow me to follow in their footsteps and produce little blonde pureblood grandchildren who violently spewed the same hate they propagated. I want more." Astoria stirred a plentiful dollop of milk into her tea, staring deep into the honeyed eyes of the witch she believed was capable of altering her future.

"Tell me what you'd like. I don't know what you'd like me to do about your impending Betrothal Contact, but I'm curious to know what you would like." Hermione squeezed a wedge of lemon into her tea and nibbled the corner of a cucumber sandwich.

"I'm not sure, but I want to do something meaningful. I don't have passions. I've never had passions, but I want them. I want more. I want to meet a wizard with ridiculously brilliant red hair and freckles covering his face. I want to watch him bumble about in his nervousness because he's just so completely captivated with me. I want to meet his family and maybe he'll have the sort of mum who loves to be a mum and she'll love me too. I want to feel as if I have a real family. I know it's not much and it probably sounds absolutely ridiculous to you…"

"If you know of me, then I'm sure you know all about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. As sure as you're Slytherin, I'm also positive you know I've been dating Ron for years." Hermione wasn't angry, or jealous or anything other than genuinely interested in aiding this particular witch.

There was something about her, Hermione found endearing. She had an innocent sort of quality, which was refreshing when faced with the copious number of witches and wizards who were only to eager to boast of their liaisons.

"I know, oh, you think…no no. I've always had quite the obsession with red hair. I don't know what it is, but it really stirs my blood. I know Ron Weasley is yours, I wasn't implying anything. I just had a little fantasy and I suppose it mirrored life in a way, but…listen, I really need your help. I can't bear the thought of sleeping with Draco Malfoy again. I don't wish to live in the Manor or anywhere else with him. I don't wish to have children with him and not because he's horrid, he's not. I suppose you already knew that. I need to be free. I can't do what my sister's done and marry the first wizard my parents decided met their approval. I can't be given away, sold really, and trapped in a life where I can't breathe. Please, you've got to help me." Astoria was on the verge of tears and it broke every rule her mother had ever attempted to instill in her.

It was unbecoming to show emotion. One never cried in public, or at all if it could be helped. Always put forth your best effort, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter. Never leave your house, without being perfectly coiffed and manicured. Smile when appropriate, but never show your teeth.

The rules were endless and Astoria had never fit the mould. She hadn't wanted to be just another perfect little pureblood. How she managed to be Sorted into Slytherin was anyone's guess once they got to know her.

"I don't understand what you think I can do. I'm not particularly well versed in Betrothal Contacts and I certainly am not capable of arguing the merits of freedom to pureblood families. I suppose I could speak to the Minister on your behalf if you wish. He does happen to be a close personal friend, but knowing him as I do, he has a tendency to allow the Sacred Twenty-Eight to do what they will, as long as it doesn't fracture the Wizengamot law's." Hermione frowned, her thoughts sifting through the numerous laws safely filed away in her overactive mind.

"The Minister? You know the Minister on a personal basis, and you'd willingly seek his aid for me? What if he speaks to my parents? I can't imagine the row which would ensue from such a thing. Isn't there anything else? I don't mean to seem ungrateful. I am. I am so unbelievably thankful you've taken the time to listen to me in the first place." Astoria wrung her hands, her mouth gaping upon catching the eye of a wizard over Hermione's shoulder. "Bollocks, I'm completely fucked."

"If you can get me a copy of your Betrothal Contract, I can do a bit of research. I'm quite adept at such things and perhaps there is an obscure bit of text, which can release you from familial obligations without bloodshed or disownment. You have to keep in mind it's not my area of expertise, but I'll do that best I can."

"There's the Granger I know, offering to do research and using words which would give any bloke a headache." Hermione twisted in her seat easily spying the burly girth of Blaise Zabini.

"There's the Zabini I know, come to scour my café until they haven't a scone left to serve." Blaise chuckled amicably, waiting while Hermione stood, before hugging her tightly. He overlooked the instantaneous tightening of her limbs upon viewing his companion.

Blaise had been insanely curious to observe Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger in the same vicinity. He had quite honestly waited years for this moment. It seemed whenever there happened to be a Ministry function, they avoided each other as if they would contaminate the others airspace.

"Granger." Astoria squinted, contemplating the impassive expression etched into her intended's face, yet coming away with nothing at all.

"Malfoy." Blaise and Astoria exchanged a glance filled with mischief as Draco's lips barely brushed Hermione's knuckles.

Hermione didn't allow him to linger over her fingers, withdrawing as if she were burned. Her actions intrigued Astoria. It seemed her intended, and her only hope, had quite the sordid history, if their stilted interactions spoke truth. Astoria smirked, the Slytherin wheels turning quickly, wondering how much convincing it would take to lure Blaise into yet another scheme.

"Draco and I were just heading to dinner, why don't you join us?" Blaise looked down at the tiny brunette near his elbow and winked.

"I-I couldn't possibly, I was supposed to meet…Ron an hour ago and I was waylaid, by a lovely tea with Astoria." Hermione jutted her chin forward, refusing to glance at the grey-eyed wizard she knew was carefully studying her profile.

"That owl looks a bit dodgy…" Astoria mumbled, frowning heavily as a small gray winged beast flew erratically toward Hermione's head.

"Bugger." Hermione glanced to the now cloudy sky, squinting as the last vestiges of sunlight shone in her eyes, while she attempted to spy Pigwidgeon.

No matter how many times she suggested Ron purchase an owl adept at delivering mail, he had angrily refused. It seemed he had grown quite fond of the ruddy owl and she secretly wondered if he enjoyed needling her. Ron scoffed at such ideas, claiming love for the beast, but every Weasley knew it was Ginny who truly adored the bird.

She stepped backward in order to avoid the flapping wings and would have fallen, if not for the quick, sure hands of a certain Slytherin. He set her on her feet, easily snatching the bird from the air and removed the rolled parchment tied to Pig's foot. He disregarded Blaise's curiosity, in order to hand Hermione her letter.

The Slytherin trio observed Hermione's shoulders sag, while her brown eyes skimmed the hastily scrawled words. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Draco recognised her upset, seeming he had been the cause of it for many years and waited.

"I-I, well…" Hermione faltered, suddenly unsure.

Astoria didn't waste a moment and quickly snatched the parchment from Hermione's hands, scanning the barely legible words. She frowned, handing it in turn to Blaise, who scoffed, before shoving it toward an almost unwilling Draco Malfoy. His lip twitched with derision and a quick roll of his eyes.

"Granger, he's cancelled plans for dinner in order to gad about with his Quidditch mates? It's obvious he's done it more than once considering your birthday was weeks ago." He shook his head, crumbling her letter.

"It's Quidditch season, he's busy." It didn't surprise any of the Slytherins to hear her defend her careless boyfriend.

"As you no longer have plans, I do insist you accompany us. We're loads more fun than sitting in front of the fire having a bit of tea surrounded by books anyway." Blaise winked and while Hermione sputtered, it's not as if she could refute his words.

"Come on then, it'll be lovely." Astoria batted her long dark eyelashes and while Hermione wished to laugh at the witch's antics, she found her endearing.

"I suppose I could, but…" Hermione raised her eyebrows and glared at Blaise.

"Oi, Malfoy, bring her along. She refuses to Side-Along with me. I can't imagine why…"

"Liar. You know exactly why!" Hermione shoved him, in a good-natured sort of way and Blaise laughed heartily.

"Yes, yes tell us all about it over dinner, I'm bloody starving." Astoria stamped her small, heeled foot, highly disgruntled upon feeling as if she were an outsider.

"There's an Apparition point just around the bend, come on then." Blaise tucked Astoria's hand into the crook of his elbow and led her down the emptying street.

Hermione blinked, aware she was left behind with Draco Malfoy while Astoria swayed her hips, chatting amicably with Blaise. She swallowed hard, set on watching the pair, but she could feel Draco stepping closer.

"Come on Granger, it's best not to keep Astoria waiting. She'll never shut up about it and I for one do not wish to listen to her insipid whining." Draco lightly grasped her elbow, but Hermione turned to him so suddenly, her hair whipped across his face.

"I don't have to come. I-I'm alright with being on my own. I don't mind, really and…" Draco smirked, refusing to even entertain the idea of sending her away. He dropped his eyes to the wooden buttons of her overcoat and tugged her long wool coat closed.

"You haven't buttoned yourself, Granger. There's entirely too much chill in the air, you'll catch your death and where would Astoria be then?" He chuckled lightly, shoving the wooden toggles into their buttonholes and normally Hermione would be insulted, but for some reason she found it charming and a little sweet.

Little did they know, Blaise and Astoria hadn't Apparated away. Instead, they hovered near the edge of the Muggle café, surreptitiously observing Draco and Hermione. Astoria elbowed Blaise more than once, astounded by her intended's behaviour.

"Do you see how close they're standing?" Astoria's hissed whisper buzzed in Blaise's ear and he had half a mind to swat her away.

"I have eyes woman."

"Are you sure they didn't have some sort of relationship in school? He's buttoned her up. He fucking smiled. Draco doesn't smile."

"At _you_ …"

"Shut up. She's blushing. I wish I could hear what they were saying." Astoria rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wishing they're hurry up.

Hermione refused to look up at him while he buttoned her coat, instead concentrating on his nimble fingers. She held her breath when his arms brushed against her ears in order to free her lustrous mane. It was easier to keep her eyes set on the silver buttons of his black overcoat than to risk a glance into his grey eyes.

"Remind me why we're no longer friends." Draco ignored the plethora of Muggles decorating the street and lowered his forehead to hers.

"Your father." Hermione breathed, blinking slowly. She realised her hand laid over his heart only when the gentle thump increased.

"How long has it been, Granger?" Hermione knew he was risking quite a lot speaking to her so candidly, even if they were in the midst of Muggle London.

"J-just over two years." Draco wrenched the clasp from her hair, dismissing her indignant gasp in order to draw her loose curls over her shoulder.

"I always preferred it like this. You never wear it this way anymore."

"I know. We really should go, it's impolite to keep them waiting." Hermione artfully tucked a wave behind her ear, refusing to acknowledge the warm breath tickling her ear. She couldn't afford to have such thoughts, not again.

"I don't live at the Manor any longer. I've a house near Lyme Regis. I remembered you speaking of it once and…" Hermione gasped, absolutely shocked he had not only vacated his ancestral home, but also chosen to reside amongst Muggles.

"Malfoy, I live in Lyme Regis, the fossils are absolutely amazing and…"

"Granger, we could be friends I think, I mean things are different now and…" Draco tossed his arm over her shoulder as he forced her to walk toward the Apparition point.

It took her aback, thrusting her into the memories of her last year spent within the castle walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It hadn't taken them long to rekindle their friendship and they'd often walked the corridors with his arm casually slung over her shoulders.

They'd laughed. They'd teased. They'd studied until the wee small hours of the morning. She encouraged him to study harder, and he forced her to lighten up by stealing her schoolbooks. They had formed the sort of friendship Harry and Ron could never comprehend, but it was the sort forged in heart and soul.

Except that was then and this was now…and everything was different now.

"I'm with Ron now. You're set to marry Astoria. Everything is different now. We might have had a chance then, but with your father…" Hermione sighed, willing her voice not to break, "clinging to his pureblood ideals and the Wizarding world being completely war ravaged and prejudices high, well, I suppose we'll never know."

"Granger," Draco sighed, yet it was more of a growl and halted their progress. "Just for tonight. I know it's still dangerous and we can't go back, but you were my friend, my best friend, but if you ever repeat that, I'll deny it. I'm…I'm asking please, just for tonight, let us be what we were." Hermione steeled herself and looked up into his eyes.

Once upon a time, those eyes would have been her undoing. Stormy summer grey flecked with the brightest hints of sky blue as they bored into her, examining every line, every freckle, willing her to acquiesce to his request. It would have been tortuously effortless to toss caution to the wayside, and for once, she did.

"Just for tonight."


	2. Understanding Malfoy

**Disclaimer: there is liberal 'borrowing' of dialogue & scenes during flashbacks from Half-Blood Prince, though if you ask me if it's from the screenplay or the book, I'm not quite sure anymore. Regardless, it's obviously not mine, well, the recognisable parts anyway.**

 **AN: I wasn't originally going to post again so soon, but I won't be able to post for the next week or so, due to travel.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Understanding Malfoy

* * *

"You've been downright unbearable since we had dinner with Granger. If I wasn't absolutely certain your mother would Avada me on the spot, I'd kill you with my bare hands." Blaise Zabini snarled, more than a little irritated with being downright trapped in bloody Dorchester.

"You're free to leave, by all means use my Floo." Draco gestured toward the stone laid hearth and stepped into his small garden.

Blaise followed as quickly as his hungover limbs would allow, and silently cursed the daylight. It wasn't difficult to find Draco, as his garden wasn't nearly the impressive maze of Malfoy Manor. He grunted and sat upon one of the many garden chairs littering the store area in the shade.

"I would, in fact, I'd blood love to, but I promised your mother I'd keep an eye on you, as it seems she was quite concerned with your well being."

"Don't remind me." Draco grumbled, carefully sipping a piping hot mug of coffee.

"It seems someone needs too. You're cantankerous and that's putting it mildly. Come on mate, Astoria isn't horrid, at least you're friends." Blaise drank his tepid tea, willing the pounding behind his eyes to quell.

"Friends? Absolutely not, I tolerate her because it's expected of me. I shagged her a few times while we were in school because…"

"Granger wouldn't." Blaise snickered, pleased with himself.

"I never tried to shag Granger, thank you very much. She and I were friends, quite good friends actually and that's all it was." Draco smashed his white porcelain mug to the ground before kicking over his garden chair.

"You're very angry for someone who's only lost a friend. I suppose if your father ever managed to keel over and die, you'd be free to pursue your friendship with her. Or you could grow a pair and tell your father to fuck right off, but who am I to say?" Blaise picked the blueberries off the top of his muffin and aimed for the blonde wizard's head. He missed, but it gave him pleasure nonetheless.

"If only it were that easy. In fact, I wish it were that easy. I wish I could simply march straight into Malfoy Manor and tell my arse of a father it'll be a cold day in Muggle hell before I marry Astoria or anyone for that matter, but I can't. You're going to ask why and I'll save you the trouble. We've already signed the precursor." Draco groaned heavily, cursing his hangover.

Blaise squinted, his head spinning while he watched Draco pace the stone of his modest garden. While he didn't know the specifics of his mate's Betrothal Contract, he knew they were almost always iron clad. He also knew Lucius Malfoy's temper was notoriously merciless and he didn't relish the idea of his mate confined to the dungeons.

"Tori's been speaking with Granger about the Contract. If Granger can't find some sort of legality to release you, I doubt anyone could. Don't even think of shouting at me. Tori happened to mention it at dinner last week."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco finally ceased his pacing in order to sit beside Blaise. He scowled at the blueberry muffins, angrily tossing them over the garden wall.

"Frankly, I didn't wish to get your hopes up for naught. Tori asked me to keep it from you. Considering your interactions with Granger over dinner, I'm not surprised. She's not a jealous sort of witch Draco, but I doubt any woman would appreciate their intended fawning over another the way you did." Blaise blinked hard, sure the spotted sunlight was causing him to see things.

Draco Malfoy blushed lightly, quickly wiping his cheeks as if he could wash away such a blatant show of emotion. He disliked the implications that he and Hermione Granger were more than they had been. No matter how many times he had insisted they were truly only friends, his drunken confession of a singular kiss had marred every attempt to convince his mate.

"You don't understand…"

"Bloody tell me then. It's not as if I haven't badgered you incessantly, and you still refuse to even entertain the notion of telling me your secrets. I don't even know how your so-called friendship with her even started. As far as I knew, you hated each other on sight and then magically you're the best of mates? What the actual fuck man?" Draco drew a slow, deep breath, shoving his anxiety to the wayside.

"Alright, you're right. I haven't been particular forthcoming, but you have to understand the circumstances." Draco ran his fingers through his mussed locks and grit his teeth. "There are only seven people who happen to know how it happened, including me, and three of them are dead." Draco resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, instead unsteadily meeting the wary gaze of an imposing Italian wizard.

He couldn't say he and Blaise had a lifelong friendship, fact of the matter is they hadn't. Blaise had always been the sort to keep to himself, avoiding the cliques among their house in favour of being quite studious. He'd always believed Draco Malfoy to be arrogant and overrated. If it wasn't for the subtle differences he'd personally observed following the Second Wizarding War; Blaise and Draco both knew they wouldn't be as close as they were.

"I'm going to need a drink, aren't I?" Blaise used a quick, wandless 'Accio' and expertly caught the bottle of single malt whiskey in a single hand.

 _It was a dark and stormy night, except it wasn't. It was a dark and foreboding night, Voldemort's Dark Mark, glittering a sinister green over the Astronomy Tower, and Draco Malfoy was terrified. He'd never expected to be the one to bring his own school to ruin and it pricked his conscience._

 _He swallowed hard, hands shaking while he scurried through the corridors under the cover of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, tentatively clutching the Hand of Glory. His breaths were hard and heavy as he slowly climbed the Astronomy Tower and then suddenly, he was there._

 _He painstakingly conversed with Albus Dumbledore, desperately clinging to the raging voice in his head, which threatened not only his life, but also that of his mother. He didn't have a choice, he knew he didn't, yet he also knew in the deepest heart of his bones, he didn't wish to murder his Headmaster. Draco Malfoy didn't wish to murder anyone at all. He regretted ever abiding his father's demands, despite the punishments._

" _I knew a boy once who made all the wrong choices, let me help you Draco." Albus Dumbledore's eyes shifted and Draco was wary but also furious._

" _I don't want your help! Don't you see?! I have to do it! I have too!" Draco's voice wavered and it was almost as if he was muttering to himself. "I've got to kill you, or he'll kill me."_

" _Say that again, Draco. But aloud this time." Draco looked deep into Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes, his breaths raspy and unsure, with trembling hands._

 _His wand shook between his fingers and his resolve faltered. Draco lowered his wand slightly, his shoulders slumping in defeat, but the thundering sound of footsteps stopped him in his maneuvers. He held his breath, glancing hastily over his shoulder and cringed._

" _Well now, look what we have here. Dumbledore. Wandless and alone." Bellatrix Lestrange pouted in feigned sadness, but Draco knew better. "Cornered in his own castle. Well done, Draco." Bellatrix clapped loudly, mocking him, but Draco didn't care a wit about his psychotic aunt._

 _He spied the strangest sight, his breath caught in his throat. Bellatrix and Greyback continued to barrage him, to force his hand to murder Albus Dumbledore, but Draco was distracted. If he wasn't completely insane, Draco could have sworn he saw fucking Hermione Granger skulking about._

 _He was blocking out the shouts of Bellatrix and Greyback, moments away from clutching his skull in agony, when the impossible happened. Mudblood Granger looked right into his startled eyes and held her finger to her lips. He blinked and Harry Potter was beside her, completely immobile until she waved her wand._

 _Draco stared between Bellatrix and Greyback, slowly finding his way back to Dumbledore once more. He didn't want to die. He didn't want his mother to die. He didn't want anyone to die really, but what choice was there?_

" _No." Draco Malfoy's favourite teacher stepped into view, his lips pursed, his dark greasy hair swinging._

 _Draco waited for him to comment about Potter and Granger's presence but Severus Snape didn't give any indication he'd seen anything untoward._

" _Severus…" It seemed to Draco, Dumbledore had a pleading sort of quality to his voice, which confused him._

 _While his father has never respected the Headmaster, Draco had never heard the imposing wizard sound so weak. He sounded almost broken and if his Headmaster was broken, then what hope did Draco have?_

" _Well, look who's here. Hogwarts own Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Come to see the slaughter?" Bellatrix tossed her long black locks back and cackled, which is exactly when they struck._

" _Expelliarmus!"_

" _Stupefy!"_

" _Protego!" Draco wasn't expecting to be shoved by none other than Professor Snape._

 _His feet slid across the slick stone of the Astronomy Tower and Draco crashed into his Headmaster, dragging him to the ground. His immediate inclination was to apologise, but he spied Albus Dumbledore's withered black hand and gasped._

" _It's alright my dear boy. It's best if you remain where you are. It would be a terrible thing to be caught in the cross-fire now." Dumbledore smiled kindly, yet it was obvious the gesture was laced with pain._

" _What do you mean?" Draco hissed, cringing, ducking even as the blinding lights of spells cast shattered around them._

" _You have a real chance now, Draco. You've taken the first step toward disproving your father's beliefs. You are not weak. You are not a coward. You have become a man, and I wish I were able to see all you are to become." An ominous feeling settled in Draco's chest and he wasn't the least bit fond of it._

" _I-I didn't do it. I mean, I'm sure my life is forfeit, but I didn't do it. I don't understand..." Draco hastily wiped the wet droplets from his cheeks, practically leaping from his skin when Severus lightly touched his shoulder._

 _He stared wide-eyed, taking in the fallen wizards littering the Astronomy Tower. His vicious Aunt Bellatrix was magically bound and seemingly Silenced as her mouth moved at a rapid pace, but not a word was spoken. Potter's chest was heaving and his wand was firmly lodged in her throat._

" _Draco, go and aid Ms. Granger." Severus Snape gestured behind him toward the Muggle-born witch._

 _It seemed Hermione Granger was riddled with fury. While Fenrir Greyback was obviously unconscious, it wasn't the slightest deterrent. She continuously kicked the werewolf in his ribs, grunting as each blow landed. Her cheek was marred with a cut from beneath her eye to her chin, blood steadily flowing, though it didn't seem to bother her._

" _Severus…" Dumbledore groaned, stretching his good hand forward imploring the wizard before him._

 _Draco didn't relish the weakness displayed and while he'd done his best to avoid the witch in question, she was the lesser of two evils. He would have immediately balked toward offering assistance to Potter in any way, shape or form, but it seemed Granger was a bit mental._

" _Granger…"_

" _Bastard, aiming to murder innocent children." Hermione Granger accentuated every word with a well-placed kick, ignoring the platinum blonde beside her._

" _Granger, you do realise you're killing him."_

" _Good." Her hands were shaking and her hair was a wild mess, but she finally made eye contact. It took her but a moment, but she composed herself quite quickly. "I'm glad you didn't…I mean…yeah, I'm glad you didn't alert them to my presence. Poor Harry was hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak and you looked unsure…" She trailed off, unsure how to actually converse with him._

" _I thought I was seeing things actually. Between my lunatic Aunt's shouting and the mere presence of that right bastard, I never imagined you were truly there." Draco smirked, more at the state of Greyback's face than anything, but she didn't know that._

" _Hermione, get away from him." Harry Potter ordered as he thumped Bellatrix on the head with his wand, resisting the inherent need to hex her into oblivion._

" _Harry, do shut up. Dumbledore asked him to come and aid me. If Dumbledore trusts him enough to send him to me, than you can bloody well trust him as well." Hermione shook her head, turning her back on her first friend, in favour of studying an ill at ease Draco Malfoy._

" _Mr. Potter, the Headmaster wishes to have a word." Severus sneered as was his way when forced into dealings with Harry Potter, before turning his attention to an enraged Bellatrix._

 _Harry it seemed, was torn between his Headmaster and his best friend, but in the end he went to Dumbledore's side, knowing Hermione could defend herself if necessary. Draco was still conflicted as to his allegiance, his worry being his family, his mother specifically and he couldn't help but to stare at Professor Snape._

" _The Order will protect her Draco." Severus was exceedingly weary with the entire situation, knowing what must be done in the end and feeling heavy of heart._

" _I hate it when you do that." Draco spat, his lip curling at the invasion of his thoughts._

" _Ms. Granger, I do believe the beast is quite unable to cause you harm. Perhaps you might refrain from abusing your prisoner." Severus was slightly amused to see the Muggle-born witch rattled, but the only allusion to such emotions was a flicker in the corner of his mouth._

" _How could you let him here, into your schools, where your bloody friends live? How could…" Hermione stifled a sob, angry with herself for showing the slightest bit of weakness._

" _I-I didn't know he'd come. I didn't think…"_

" _Obviously." Severus sniffed dryly, slowing turning his back on Bellatrix Lestrange, which was an error._

" _Consorting with Mudbloods and traitors, I shouldn't be surprised. You always were weak." Bellatrix had finally calmed her rage long enough to free herself and deftly snatched her wand from the ground where Harry Potter had stupidly discarded it._

 _Severus turned on his toe, brandishing his wand, but Bellatrix was fast, ridiculously fast. She muttered a spell and before Draco could even comprehend the dire situation, Professor Snape slumped against the wall, unconscious. Hermione gasped, drawing the deranged witches attention, a sinister gleam in her dark eyes as the witch stepped forward. Draco, in a moment which could only be construed as confusion, deftly sidestepped, covertly protecting the small witch, from his Aunt's wrath._

" _You have failed. I knew you would. I told the Dark Lord, but he refused to listen to me. It seems he retains a bit of faith in your loyalties, but I knew better. Step aside Draco, redeem yourself, and finish off the Mudblood."_

" _It's alright." Hermione murmured, while raising her hand slowly and placing it upon his back._

" _No. No! It's not alright. She hasn't done anything to you, to anyone!" Bellatrix's dark eyes narrowed, her blood red lips snarling with distaste as she pointed her wand at her only nephew._

" _Who cares? She's a Mudblood. This is war, better her than you. Of course, I have no issue with sending you to join her. Step aside. She doesn't deserve her magic. She doesn't deserve to LIVE! Avad…"_

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!" Draco spat the Killing Curse with a pent up venom of hatred for the woman who had tortured him in pleasure, his stomach rolling when her eyes widened and Bellatrix Lestrange crumpled to the floor, dead._

" _Y-You protected…her." Harry studied the ill looking Slytherin through new eyes, averting his gaze quickly as the other wizard was violently sick on the floor. He turned to his immobile Professor and sighed. "Renneverate."_

 _While Draco was wiping the back of his hand across his lips, Severus Snape sat up in alarm, breathing a sigh of relief when he spied Bellatrix's corpse. He looked to Albus, who only shook his head, gesturing toward none other than Draco Malfoy. The disbelief was evident, before Severus assumed his naturally apathetic form. He stood on unsteady limbs, brushing off The Boy Who Lived's offered arm._

" _I'm…proud of you." Draco turned, glancing between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, his blonde hair flopping across his forehead._

" _It's all the same, isn't it? Isn't it?"_

" _Whatever do you mean, my boy?" The sounds of spells crashing and wizards shouting escalated and Severus knew they didn't have much more time._

 _Draco studied the cut along Hermione Granger's cheek before answering. Using the thumb of his right hand, he reached forward, ignoring her gasp. He placed his thumb directly on the mark and slowly swiped it down the length of it, barely whispering a healing spell. He stared at the streak of red on his finger and looked up into the inquisitive eyes of Severus Snape._

" _Her blood, my blood, it's all the same…" Severus inclined his head before turning to gaze upon Albus Dumbledore._

" _I gave my word. I made a vow." He spoke the words quietly, directed at Harry Potter, rather than the Headmaster._

 _Professor Severus Snape drew his wand and pointed it at the man who had always known where his true allegiance laid. Draco drew short breaths, aching to step forward, but a petite hand slipped into his, keeping him still. He stared down at her lightly tanned hand in his and swallowed hard. As he opened his mouth to comment on the bizarre situation, a jet of green light flew forth from Snape's wand, hitting Dumbledore squarely in the chest._

" _You can no longer stay here." Severus Snape's dark eyes linger on clasped hands, a pang of regret causing him to flinch._

" _You're going to leave? You can't just leave, you coward!" Harry Potter shouted, and even Draco was taken aback by the pain in his voice._

" _Coward? Really, Potter? Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?" Snape shoved the boy with the lightning scar, refusing to look into his eyes._

" _He can't stay, Harry. We have a real chance to defeat Voldemort and if he discovers Professor Snape has been loyal to Dumbledore, it'll be catastrophic. Surely you're capable of seeing the logic." Draco felt her trembling beside him and while he now knew his Professor had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him, he was sure she had realised such things._

" _They'll kill you if you stay." Snape implored his charge to accompany him, but in the end, he knew the boy would remain behind._

" _No, we won't. They'll kill him if he goes with you. You might be perfectly safe among vipers but…"_

" _I assure you, Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy's life is my utmost concern."_

" _I'm sure, I mean obviously, but while you're quite accomplished in Occlumency,_ _ **he**_ _isn't. I can't imagine any of the events in the past hour going over particularly well with Volde…"_

" _Yesss, Ms. Granger, I get the point." Severus hissed, displeased when the obvious was pointed out by one of his students, especially her. "And who is going to protect him here, you?" He sneered, detesting every moment wasted arguing with children._

" _I am capable of speaking for myself…" Draco interjected, feeling uncomfortable watching Harry Potter stare off the Astronomy Tower, presumably at his deceased Headmaster._

" _Yes, if need be. I don't imagine anyone giving him difficulty if he stays with Harry and I."_

Blaise snorted, half drunk, once more, on his delectable whiskey. It was easy to imagine Hermione Granger drawing herself to her full ridiculous height to face down the most intimidating Professor at Hogwarts.

"That's when you fell in love with her yeah?" Blaise snickered then shouted when Draco cuffed him about the head.

"I'm not in love with her! I keep telling you! I wish you'd fucking listen already!"

"What is it that Squib said? Oh yeah, I remember now. Methinks doth do protest too much. Ow! Stop hitting me!" Blaise finally struck out, shoving Draco from his person.

Of course, he shoved a bit too hard, and Draco crashed into a young sapling, near the stonewall of his garden. Blaise fully expected an all out brawl and braced himself for impact. Instead, Draco sat beside the leaning sapling and propped his head in his hands, which he had across his knees.

"Malfoy…Draco, I didn't mean anything by it. C'mon then, tell me about the rest of your adventures."

"You can fuck right off. I don't think I'll tell you another thing." Draco hopped to his feet and stormed into his modest home, slamming the door behind him.

"Good job Blaise, that went well."

* * *

Harry Potter scratched his head, sighing heavily while he stood between his two oldest friends. He couldn't quite grasp why they were shouting at each other, as their words had all jumbled together in a delightful nonsensical medley. He hadn't yet drawn his wand, but he was sorely tempted.

"Ron, sit over there. Hermione take a breath and tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?" Hermione refused to even glance in the red-haired wizard's direction.

She picked up one of her floral armchairs and turned it toward her fireplace, rather than leaving it facing Ronald Weasley. She crossed one leg over the other, smoothed the edge of her brown tweed skirt, and folded her fingers.

"Harry, when was my birthday?"

"That's a silly question. You're birthday is September 19th." Harry smiled pleased with himself, but knowing her as he did, he was a bit wary as well.

"What's today's date?"

"October 27th, is there a point to this?" Hermione's caramel eyes narrowed and Harry knew he had definitely stepped in it.

"Perhaps you'd do to inform your best mate Ronald Weasley of these little facts, as it seems he's forgotten how to calculate. It also seems he has the gall to be angry with me, for a dinner I had with a delightful group of Slytherin's last week _after_ he had cancelled on me, yet again." Hermione Granger bounced her foot, resolutely pretending a certain Gryffindor didn't exist.

"That's what this is all about?" Harry shook his head and glanced over at a red-faced Ron Weasley. "Ron, you've put off her birthday for weeks. I saw her when she was out with Zabini…"

"And Malfoy…" Ron spat, interrupting his friend easily. He'd always allowed his anger to get the best of him and this time wasn't any different.

"So what? Malfoy's an alright bloke. His engagement to Astoria Greengrass was announced just the other day, it's not like you've anything to worry about." Ron's cheeks shone, his hands trembling when he leapt from his seat.

"Seamus saw them and they were bloody dancing Harry. Not only that, but she cancelled lunch with me to have tea with Astoria Greengrass!"

"Hermione likes to dance. It's not as if you're going to dance with her and I'm certainly not going to do it, for that matter. You have to admit we're right shit at it. Why shouldn't she dance with someone who isn't going to break her toes?" Harry flounced onto Hermione's sofa and considered propping his feet on her coffee table, but he didn't wish to die.

"Her dress was backless, Harry." Ron groaned dramatically and chanced a glance at his perturbed girlfriend.

"Ask him why I was wearing that particular dress in the first place, Harry. I dare you."

"I can hazard a guess and I'm bloody well sure it has nothing to do with Malfoy. You've really got to get over this Ron. They're friends. Hell, Malfoy was a better friend to her than we were, when they went back to Hogwarts. You're going to drive her away with your petty jealousy if you can't grow up." Harry had much more important things to do than play mediator, especially where Ron was concerned. The flagrant acts of jealousy were wearing on his nerves and he wasn't even a woman. He couldn't imagine how Hermione felt about it.

"Malfoy is rich, entitled, arrogant, and he hates me. He's got everything he's ever wanted, and all I have is Hermione, if you think about it. She's brilliant and her hair is much better than it was when we were kids. He could have anyone, he doesn't need to be friends with her, she's mine." Ron puffed out his chest and Harry muttered 'oh shit' under his breath before Hermione leapt to her feet.

"Yours? I'm yours? I wasn't aware I was a possession. I was under the misconception that I was capable of being my own woman and doing whatever I liked. I also believed I was capable of formulating relationships that don't revolve around you. Silly me, I was mistaken as it's obvious I'm only capable of being Ronald Weasley's girlfriend." Hermione shoved Ron, feeling satisfaction course through her when he was upended over the chair. "Harry, I love you, but I can't be here right now. I don't wish to do anything I probably won't regret. Please, get him out of here."

Hermione Granger quickly kissed Harry's brow before storming out of her cottage near the sea. She didn't have a destination in mind, she simply needed to walk. She needed to feel the fresh air fill her lungs, enjoy the last flickers of sunlight, and rid her mind of Ron Weasley.

She cared about Ron, she knew she did. Maybe she even loved him, sometimes she wasn't sure. Most of the time, they meshed well, as long as his temper was held in check. Hermione knew Ron wasn't aware of every detail concerning Draco Malfoy's defection to the Order, and he still harboured animosity toward childhood bullying.

While she understood his anger, Hermione fervently wished he'd simply trust her. From the moment Ron learned Draco was returning to Hogwarts, he was up in arms. It didn't matter how much information Malfoy had provided the Order, Ron was determined to hate him.

Hermione had immediately begged Harry and even Malfoy to tell Ron everything, but they had adamantly refused. She didn't completely understand their stubbornness, she still didn't, but it wasn't just her story to tell. It made sense for Malfoy to disagree with her at every turn, especially where Ron was concerned, but what boggled her mind was Harry.

As she wandered the emptying streets and smiled at Muggle tourists, her thoughts strayed not to Ron and his temper, not to Draco and their intimate moments, but to Harry. He had been a nervous wreck when he'd seen her seated with the Slytherins and she knew it wasn't because of her company. He was hiding something from her and that didn't sit well at all.

"I need to think." Hermione muttered to herself, wishing she had thought to bring her overcoat. Instead, she stepped into a darkened alley between two dark stone buildings and Apparated.


	3. The Snake Pit

**AN: I have a wicked little habit of jumping forward and then referring to the missing points. I realise it can be quite irritating and I'd apologise...but, I really sort of enjoy it. I am sorry if it drives you mad. I don't wish that to happen, but I'm working very hard in making sure everything is understandable in the end, so bear with me.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

The Snake Pit

* * *

The pert brunette sneered as the front page of the Daily Prophet continuously waved at her. The last thing she had ever wished to see was her own face looking back at her. It had been over a month since the announcement, but the Wizarding community was still all aflutter with the news of her engagement.

She wasn't particularly thrilled, but it seemed her wishes didn't matter in the least. No matter how hard the younger generations had rallied for an abolishment of arranged marriages, the older generations refused to yield. They insisted the old way was tried and true. It didn't matter the Age of the Purebloods was fading into oblivion, hell Hermione Granger was a glaringly obvious testament to that. It didn't matter the number of children born from these arrangements had dropped dramatically. They didn't care to hear such things, and so Astoria Greengrass begrudgingly began her day.

She dressed quickly in plum robes, simply to annoy her mother. She easily discarded the ornate Slytherin green dresses her mother had an elf lay out and growled. She pulled a brush harshly through her hair, not caring in the least when it slightly frizzed. Her final touch was the Muggle boots she absolutely adored, knowing her mother would be half out of her mind with rage, but too well groomed to say a single word in public.

She silently cursed Hermione Granger out of frustration, as even _her_ brilliance had been unable to relieve Astoria of her duty. She never imagined her parents capable of having such papers drawn up on their own. Astoria was well aware of her parent's connections, but as Blaise was her personal solicitor, she didn't have much if any contact with her parents. She had never dreamed it was possible to be bound without her consent.

"These ancient laws are going to be the death of me. Well, no, not me, but definitely someone."

Her newfound friendship with the Muggle-born witch was a source of contention between her and her parents, which pleased her greatly. Frankly, she wished she could tell her parents to shove their pureblood notions straight up their arse, but she didn't wish to be hexed. She didn't flaunt her new relationship in their faces, but she didn't go out of her way to hide it either. She quite liked the witch and hoped the feeling was mutual, but with Hermione, one could never be sure.

Astoria Greengrass wasn't what one would call a brilliant witch, but despite her bubbly personality, she was exceedingly cunning. No matter how many times she had attempted to broach the subject of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger's abstract relationship, she had gleaned nothing. It frustrated her to no end, however everything changed upon actually observing them together.

She recalled the way they had naturally sat side by side at the restaurant, leaving her and Blaise to their own devices. Astoria hadn't minded, not really. It's not as though she and Draco were deliriously in love, but she was fond of him. Well, as fond as him as she could possibly be considering she thought he was quite the bastard.

Astoria shuddered remembering the few times she'd managed to shag him while they were at school. It was childish fallacy really. She'd embraced the idea of being the next Lady Malfoy and set her sights on Draco. However, she soon realised, they had little in common and couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life tied to him.

She'd valiantly tried to talk her parents out of solidifying the contract, but her father had informed her, quite brusquely, it was too late. Apparently, despite her tears, it had been in the works for years and her parents were not about to offend the Malfoys. Her mother was quick to inform her, she had been hand chosen by Lady Malfoy. One did not snub the Malfoys if they valued their social standing. Therefore, Astoria had settled into the idea of a loveless marriage, until she discovered Hermione Granger.

She'd had a sneaking suspicion Draco harboured romantic feelings toward the Muggle-born witch, as she'd caught him gazing at her during Ministry functions more often than not, yet he had denied such things. Instead, succinctly stating they were nothing more than friends during a difficult time period, and their friendship had concluded when they left Hogwarts. It was a valid answer, yet it was lacking substance, which made her suspicious.

Blaise hadn't revealed any of his mate's secrets, which drove Astoria absolutely mad, but no matter how many times she had pleaded and downright begged, Blaise refused to budge. However, instead of silently seething, she decided to go straight to the source. When she had approached Hermione Granger that day, it hadn't been a lie.

Astoria had absolutely no desire to marry Draco Malfoy, but her wants no longer mattered and she bloody well knew it. She didn't want to reside in that hovel he called a modest home near the sea. She didn't want an imitation of her older sister's arranged marriage. She wanted something better.

Astoria knew her sister was happy now, but the beginning of her courtship had been riddled with strife. Daphne had balked at her parent's choice, refusing to meet with the poor wizard. Astoria didn't understand the problem at all. At least Terrence Higgs was a respectable wizard who happened to be genuinely interested in Daphne. Astoria wasn't afforded such luxuries, and it made her angrier than she was willing to admit.

Her stylish, yet exorbitantly expensive black boots clipped across the cobblestone while Astoria avoided insipid witches on her way to Madam Malkin's. She was in a sour mood, as her mother demanded her presence, not a minute passed one in order to have her fitted for her wedding attire. It was a ruse if ever there was one. Astoria knew, as did any with worth her wand, her presence wasn't required. A seamstress was sent to her family's home weeks ago, taking a ridiculous number of measurements.

"Wedding attire." Astoria scoffed tossing her dark hair over her shoulder in irritation. She practically stomped down the cobblestone toward the robe shop, wishing she were somewhere else, anywhere else.

"You've taken to talking to yourself, in public. Delightful to know I'm about to marry a completely barmy witch." Draco Malfoy sneered with a quick roll of his squinted eyes.

"Don't start. If anyone had been able to convince your father, you'd think it would be his only heir and son. It seems the greatly esteemed Lucius Malfoy doesn't care a wit for his son's wishes anymore than my parents care for mine. How lovely, looks as though we'll stuck in misery together. Unless of course, my brilliant new friend is able to discover some legality to set us free." Astoria smiled sweetly, but it didn't reach her eyes and Draco glanced away from her.

He considered it most unfortunate to wander across Astoria Greengrass while doing a bit of shopping in Diagon Alley. He had wished nothing more than one more day to lament his future, but it seemed the Universe had other plans. Draco was quite thankful she hadn't latched onto his arm, but he knew it was only a matter of moments, and then he would be forced to ignore The Daily Prophet for another month.

"Absolutely not, you're being ridiculous." Draco tensed upon hearing _her_ voice, simply clenching his hand into a fist.

"I'm not though, think about it. The War's been over, you've got your career and whatnot. Malfoy's getting married so…."

"Oh I see what this is about. You want to get married simply because Draco Malfoy is marrying Astoria? You're being stupid." Hermione Granger wrenched her elbow from an insistent Ron Weasley, hoping to leave him behind the moment she stepped into Madam Malkin's.

Ron it seemed, had other plans while he continued to blather away. He was determined, Hermione had to give him that. She honestly couldn't remember the last time he was adamant about anything regarding their relationship. Of course that wasn't true, she had resolutely informed him there wasn't a chance in Hades of him getting into her knickers, which had angered him considerably.

"I'm not being stupid. C'mon Mione, you've made me wait long enough now. You kept saying you weren't ready, and I respected that. You said you wanted to make something of yourself and while I didn't understand it because we're bloody war heroes, I respected that as well. I'm not even poor anymore and I know it never meant anything to you, but it was important to me. I've been patient, I've tried to understand, but now?" Ron stopped beside Flourish & Blotts, hoping the array of books in the window would cause Hermione to pause.

"You've put quite a lot of thought into this, haven't you? I appreciate your patience, I do…" Hermione nibbled the corner of her bottom lip, painfully aware of Astoria and Draco a short distance from her.

"It's not enough though, is it? What more do you need from me? Whatever you like, I'll give it to you." Hermione hated to see him beg and she had to admit his pleading blue eyes were endearing in a strange way.

"Your temper..." Hermione struggled, resolved not to argue with him further amidst the bustle. "I want to be able to go to dinner with my friends without worrying about your reaction. I can't commit myself to you, knowing whenever I speak to Zabini or Malfoy or even if I take tea with Astoria, you're going to shout at me until Harry has to intervene before I hex you to bits." Hermione observed Ron grapple with his feelings and patiently waited.

Ron Weasley's first inclination was to explode into a beautiful menagerie of Weasley rage, but he also knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. He was quite interested in getting somewhere, more precisely Hermione's knickers, but she didn't need to know that. He considered his options, and while being cordial with Slytherins wasn't exactly what he was aiming for, Ron decided as long as he got Hermione in the end, it didn't matter.

"You want me to be friends with Malfoy?"

"No Ron," Hermione laughed, picturing the absurdity of it, "I don't believe anyone expects you to be friends with him. I do believe I'm hoping for civility at best. Astoria is quite a lovely witch, I like to think you'd get on with her exceedingly well. She absolutely adores Quidditch." She hid a quick smile as Ron's eyes were alight with wonder.

"I've never met a witch that loves Quidditch as much as Ginny. I bet Astoria's a bloody Puddlemore United fan…" Ron grimaced even as Hermione braced herself for the inevitable approach from the striking couple.

"You shut your filthy mouth, Weasley." Astoria Greengrass grit her teeth and resisted the urge to slap the freckled beast. "Puddlemore United, as if! Draco here might rally behind Puddlemore, but I can assure you my team has a real chance this year! The coach is a personal family friend and he's assured my father they've picked up a new Keeper that will blow the socks off bloody everyone!"

"You've done it now Granger, you do realise I'll never hear the end of her ridiculous devotion to the Canons now yeah?" Draco casually leaned against the picture window of Flourish & Blotts, highly amused with the turn his afternoon was taking.

Draco Malfoy winked at Hermione and she almost smiled. It was reminiscent of their Hogwarts days, as they remained on the fringes of various arguments. They had always preferred remaining on the outskirts of such scuffles. Truth be told, they would have much rather been invisible, which why they gravitated toward each other then, and even now.

"Did you know she has an absolute obsession with red hair? Perhaps it would aid your marriage if you were to Charm your hair." Hermione hadn't realised she'd even moved until his shoulder brushed against hers and she closed her eyes.

"Not for all the galleons in the world, Granger. How long do you think it'll be before she loses her temper?" Draco quite enjoyed watching Astoria shout, as long as it wasn't directed at him. The fact Ron Weasley was bearing the brunt of her anger simply made it that much sweeter.

"Knowing her temper **and** his? I would hazard a guess and say any minute now."

"Why are they even arguing? They're both bloody Canon's fans." Draco gestured toward the shouting duo, nodding quickly toward a whistling Blaise.

Draco frowned when his friend spun on his heel and hurried in the opposite direction, but he wasn't about to comment on the wizard's strange behaviours. He had half a mind to follow him, but knowing Blaise, he was on his way to meet yet another willing witch. He seemed to have an accumulation of them lately. Blaise was also begging off more than usual and had been seen cavorting with one of the Weasley twins of all people. Draco's eyes narrowed and he surmised his mate was once more plotting something deeply Slytherin. He opened his mouth to make a weak excuse but his hand touched hers and thoughts of pursuit were lost.

"You're touching my hand." Hermione whispered, feeling a tingle in her fingers where his grazed hers.

"So what? If you can recall, I used to touch your hands all the time. In fact, I used to hold them." Draco kept a careful eye on his fiancé while interlacing his fingers with Hermione's. "If memory serves me correctly, there was a particularly heated moment…"

"Don't, please don't, that's not fair." Hermione struggled to maintain her composure, which pleased Draco to no end. He was delighted to discover he affected her and tugged her hand, forcing her closer.

" _Come on Granger, it's our last night in the castle, live a little!" Draco tossed his school robes onto the sofa of their common room with a slow smile._

" _We'll live plenty after we've finished packing. You always leave everything to the last minute. You're going to regret it come the morning when you're rushing about and you miss The Hogwart's Express." Hermione huffed with her usual indignation and carefully stacked another armload of books into her trunk._

" _Argh, Granger you're bloody killing me, you realise this?" Draco leapt over the back of the sofa and tossed a throw pillow at her head._

" _And you're being dramatic." Hermione growled as her next armload of books tumbled from her arms. "Look what you've done."_

" _Come out with me. There are loads of celebrations tonight and you're packing. No sense of adventure…" Draco shook his head, clucking his tongue, "poor little Gryffindor."_

" _I've had enough adventure to last me a lifetime, Malfoy." Hermione felt those ridiculous grey eyes practically boring a hole into her back and still she refused to turn. She knew her resolve would crumble the moment he pouted, she had become predictable in that manner._

" _At least come with me to the Astronomy Tower." Hermione didn't understand his request, but she was instantly curious and before she knew it, she was nodding slowly._

 _She allowed him to take her hand as he'd done numerous times before, and dragged her through the corridors. They waved off catcalls and whistles, laced with invitations for drinks and parties. They climbed the stone steps and suddenly they were standing in the place where their unlikely friendship was forged._

" _Why here? I would have expected you to be half in your cups in the Slytherin dungeons…" Hermione sighed, slightly nervous, as she was never a fan of heights._

 _Draco didn't answer her, nor did he release her hand. He wandered perilously close to the largest telescope in the room. It was easy to stare out over the grounds of his school and pretend he was happy to be leaving. It was easy to pretend her hand didn't feel perfect in his, but he had to pretend._

" _This is where it all really began, isn't it?" He tugged on Hermione's hand, forcing her the last few steps until she stood beside him._

" _I-I suppose it did. Malfoy, please let's step back a bit, it is quite a drop and…"_

" _Granger," Draco brushed a twisted strand off her cheek, "Live a little."_

" _I'm all for living, Malfoy, it's the falling and dying that makes me cautious." Hermione thought nothing of his errant show of affection, used to such antics._

 _He stumbled when she dragged him away from the edge, snickering at her obvious sigh of relief once they stood in the middle of the tower. Draco looked down at her and for the first time during their tremulous relationship, his breath caught in his throat. He'd never noticed the specks of green in her eyes, nor the constant blush on her cheeks._

 _Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, watching him stare down at her. Something had changed between them. She couldn't identify what it was exactly, but it was definitely something. It had always been there, the thick tension, but they brushed it aside, Hermione more than Draco did. For the greater good. It was always for the greater good, but now, everything was different. The silence was almost deafening and she swore he could hear the pounding of her heart._

" _My father is demanding I work with him. It's not that I mind, not really. I'm quite accomplished in Potions. I only wish he would have asked, but that's expecting too much really. It also seems he's solidified the terms of my arranged marriage. I know, you think it's a terribly antiquated notion and I don't disagree with you." Draco groaned lightly, but knew he didn't have a choice. He had to tell her and he had to tell her now, before he lost his nerve._

" _Why are you telling me this?" Hermione's bottom lip quivered as she sensed something was amiss. Draco Malfoy was never this forthcoming, not even with her._

" _You're the first real friend I've ever had, did you know that? I mean, now I've got Blaise as well, but that's because of you. He wouldn't give me the time of day before, and now look at us. Crabbe and Goyle were a bit dim, and it's not as if I could confide in them or anything." Hermione snickered, quickly covering her mouth with her free hand._

" _A bit dim? Oh Malfoy, you're too kind." Draco frowned, resisting the urge to rake his fingers through his hair. He couldn't risk alerting her to his apprehension before he finished._

" _Granger, stop interrupting me. I can't get this out if you keep at it, and this is important alright?" Draco yanked her hand, until Hermione crashed into him. She had no other choice than to strain to look up at his pale, anxiety ridden, face. "You have a crinkle in your forehead, when you're thinking. You chew your lip when you're nervous. You're the only witch I've ever known to blush when they're angry, as much as when they're embarrassed. I used to feel you up when we slept on the floor of Potter's hovel. I didn't want to be your friend in the beginning, then we became friends and it was easy to do so here, more than anywhere. And now, here we are, our last night in the castle, and I wish we weren't friends." Draco held her tightly round the waist and before he knew it, his lips captured hers and he no longer remembered the point of it all._

 _Hermione wasn't expecting him to kiss her. They had never had that sort of relationship, despite their closeness. It was innocent handholding and whispers more than anything. There was always a line they refused to cross. Sure, they had heard all the rumors and even had a confrontation or two with Ron during a Hogsmeade weekend, but they had never been untoward, until now._

 _Draco hadn't intended to kiss her, in fact, that had been the furthest thing from his mind. Of course, he'd always been horrid when it came to impulse control, and when Hermione began gnawing her bottom lip, he couldn't think. She drove him mad, absolutely batty really, and now that his warm lips were probing hers, and her body was soft, pliant and against his, he didn't want to think._

" _What are you doing?!" Hermione tore her lips from his, but Draco was pleased to note she hadn't moved an inch._

" _You kissed me back." She blushed prettily, her lips slightly parted but she didn't argue with him._

" _It was the heat of the moment."_

" _You can say that again." Draco held her close and with slow, smooth steps walked her into the stonewall._

 _He held onto Hermione's hand and raised it over her head. He watched her chest rise and fall with every quick breath and kissed her cheek. Draco waited patiently for Hermione to tell him to stop or redefine the parametres of their friendship, but she simply closed her eyes and waited._

 _His fingers splayed her cheek and jaw, his breath tickled her nose, and then his lips were pressing against hers once more. Hermione was at a loss really. She felt daring and dangerous, tinged with a bit of guilt, but the feeling of him against her, rivaled anything she'd ever felt before. She sighed and his tongue immediately merged with hers, tasting her, consuming her and she was responding in kind._

 _Hermione whimpered, deep in her throat, her fingers barely touching his cheek and then the hair at the base of his neck. Her toes ached as she was stretched to the limit, until she was in his arms, Draco's hands firmly imbedded in her arse cheeks. She had to admit he was quick, as it seemed Draco had slipped his hands into her knickers and grasped her bare skin._

 _It was a frenzy of souls being bared and emotions flaring, but even Hermione knew it couldn't continue forever. When Draco wedged her between the wall and his body, freeing a hand to drag slowly across her abdomen, she almost ended it there. When his practiced palm cupped her breast, she moaned into his mouth, yanking on the tender hairs at the base of his neck. When she slid down the stone and felt his arousal brush her thigh, just as Draco pulled down the cup of her bra, Hermione swore to end it immediately, but still, she didn't._

 _Strangely enough, it was Draco who regained use of his faculties moments after experiencing a dusky peak harden between his fingers. His kisses slowed, his caresses lessoned, until finally he lowered Hermione to her feet. He kissed her hungrily, once, twice, three times before stepping away._

" _I shouldn't have done that." He whispered, feeling an emptiness in his arms._

" _I know." Hermione whispered, a sudden ache in her heart, as well as between her thighs._

" _I can't be friends with you, Granger." Draco desperately wished to inform her of the threats against her person by his father, but he couldn't._

" _I know." Hermione assumed such a thing was coming. She wasn't hailed the brightest witch of her age for nothing, and she knew Lucius Malfoy was still quite the cantankerous wizard, intent upon keeping his prejudiced pureblood ideals as the only way of life._

" _I'll miss you." Draco wanted nothing more than to hold her once more, just once, but he abstained._

" _Malfoy…Draco, you don't have to do this." Hermione detested the sudden pleading quality to her voice, but she was desperate._

 _She knew the day was coming, but she thought she had more time. She'd always known their friendship had a shelf life, but she wasn't ready to see it end. Draco Malfoy had become important to her, more important than she was willing to admit, but it seemed her time was up._

" _One day, it'll all work out, you'll see Granger. Of course, by then it'll be too late. I can't imagine you forgiving me for this." Draco stepped forward and Hermione couldn't help but to close her eyes at his close proximity._

 _She felt his lips lightly brush across hers and the tears pricked her eyes as she knew, this was goodbye._

"That was then Malfoy, everything is different now." Draco hated how melancholy the words sounded in his ears.

"Jeannie! You didn't tell me your boyfriend was the new Keeper for the Chudley Canons!" Astoria bounced over, eyeing their hands without comment, yet her eyes alight with interest.

"Jeannie?" Draco curled his lip, quickly shaking his head, tightening his fingers even as Hermione attempted to extract them.

"Yes, well it's loads better than Herms, Hermy, and Mione, considering she resolutely refused to utter Hermione as she declared it entirely too long." Hermione sighed, willing Ron to behave himself.

"I believe I used the words ridiculously too long, besides you're the one that dubbed me Tori and now even Blaise is using it as if it were commonplace." Ron shuffled his feet, suddenly uncomfortable among the Slytherins, when he spied their hands.

"Uhm, Hermione, I know I said I would try and all that, but I've got to ask. Why are you holding hands with Malfoy?" Ron cleared his throat a few times, breathing deeply.

"They're friends, Weasley. You can't tell me you've never held hands with your friends. I've seen you in fact. You've held hands with your sister and with Luna Lovegood, I'm sure Jeannie didn't put up a bit of a fuss." Astoria tapped her booted toe quickly and crossed her arms, daring him to refute her words.

"That's different. Ginny is my sister and Luna Lovegood was dragging me about, throwing up quite the fuss about some sort of mythical creature determined to burrow into my ears." Hermione smothered a giggle, giving Draco a sidelong glance, willing him to released her, but he shook his head with a quick wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Come on then Weasley," Draco held out his free hand, a small smile on his lips, "I'll hold your hand as well, then you won't feel left out."

Hermione held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion, yet instead, Ron cracked a half smile. The tension ebbed from his shoulders and while he wasn't ready to shake hands with the bloke or anything, at least he learned the git had a sense of humour. He cast a furtive glance at Astoria, intrigued and decided perhaps it wouldn't be all that bad.

It was at that moment, a small boy, no older than eight or nine ran into the cluster of Slytherins and Gryffindors with an impish grin. They peered down at the child, curious, but they didn't have more than a moment to consider the implications of his arrival. He reached into the pocket of his tattered tan slacks and withdrew a large handful of a powdery substance, dark as pitch. He laughed as he threw it to their feet, as his were already poised to run, and then everything went black.


	4. The Disappearing Act

**AN: As I'm sure you've noticed, I've been a bit behind in my postings. These things happen when life rears its demanding head. I appreciate your patience and well, I do the best I can, but I don't spend my entire day writing. I'm a teacher, I'm a wife, I'm a mother, I'm a renovator, I'm a packer and soon enough I'll also be a mover.**

 **I'm not one to beg for readers or reviews, and I'm not going to start now. However, if you are going to review? For the love of God, leave the nastiness elsewhere. There's no need for it.**

 **I'm sure there will be a bit of confusion in this chapter and I'm not going to splay out my poker hand for all to see. I like to retain a bit of mystery, but be assured, I have intensive and copious notes. Everything will be explained...eventually. And for you word worriers? This chapter was just over 5k words before the author's note. ;)**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

The Disappearing Act

* * *

Blaise Zabini was quite proud of himself. It wasn't often one could say they managed to procure information from an unwilling Malfoy. In fact, he was quite certain such a thing had never occurred in the history of man. He would have beaten his chest like a Muggle, but he was much too refined for such things.

Of course, it taken an exceedingly patient wizard, and Blaise was just the man for the job. It had also taken copious amounts of firewhiskey, but he wasn't about to admit to such things. It was his little secret, as it seemed Draco Malfoy wouldn't be remembering much of anything once he managed to wake from his stupor.

After Malfoy had angrily stormed away, it taken Blaise more than a few minutes to nonchalantly jaunt around the exterior of the cottage, desperately searching for an entrance. He made a mental note to never leave his wand anywhere else but his slacks pocket, ever again. Eventually, he discovered an open window and crawled through it, albeit with a bit of struggle, before landing in an undignified heap.

He ventured from room to room looking for his mate, but coming up empty-handed. He discovered his wand on the floor near the hearth and grunted in appreciation. He shoved it into his back pocket and listened carefully for the slightest sound. Blaise finally wandered into the quaint kitchen and discovered Draco bent over the sink basin, splashing cold water onto his face.

"Draco…"

"Take it back, Blaise." Draco's head hung low, droplets falling from his cheeks and Blaise wasn't positive it was all water.

"I don't…"

"YOU TAKE IT BACK!" Draco screamed, the veins in his throat throbbing before he punched the wall.

He didn't flinch and Blaise wasn't sure the man could feel an ounce of pain. He'd never seen Draco in such a state. It wasn't as though he had been friends with the man prior to the War. In fact, they had avoided each other, truth to told. Draco believed Blaise to be a self-serving pompous arse and Blaise believed the same.

"I'm not in love with her." Draco's strangled words struck a chord with Blaise and he didn't know how to respond.

"I'd like to tell you, I believe you." Blaise snatched Draco's bleeding hand, inspected his knuckles, and waved his wand with a quick Healing Spell.

"I don't." Draco slammed his palms onto the edge of the counter space and Blaise simply waited. "It was a moment, one fucking moment. What kind of person loves another from one fucking moment? It's absurd." Draco yanked open a cupboard, effectively ripping the door from its hinges as he reached for a bottle of firewhiskey.

"I've never had strong feelings for anyone, not even my mother. I'm not exactly the right person to help you out here, Malfoy. However, I am fairly certain it wasn't a singular moment that got you caught up in her." Blaise's fingers itched as he watched the bottle drift to and from Draco's parted lips, desperate for a sip.

Draco's lip curled and he slammed the bottle into Blaise Zabini's chest. The Italian wizard's first inclination was to be angry his shirt was now wet, but he decided the end result was worth the inconvenience. He searched the kitchen for a glass, but it seemed Draco had smashed all of them in a fit of anger. Blaise shrugged, taking a long gulp, before gently setting the bottle down.

"Why can't any of this be easy? I don't know how I feel about anything, but I don't feel what I think I should feel for Astoria, especially if I'm going to marry her." Draco dragged his feet into the sitting room, swinging the bottle he'd snatched and flounced onto the sofa with a scowl.

"Malfoy, who fucking cares about feelings? Arranged marriages are part of your fucking society. I doubt your parents were in love…"

"Actually they were. My father courted her, proper even. My mother loved to regale me with stories of her early relationship with Father when I was a small child. They encouraged me to do the same with Astoria, and I tried for a bit, but she talks too much." Draco propped his feet on the table with a smirk Blaise tried to decipher but failed.

"I don't think that's it at all. I think you finally noticed Tori and Granger have a similarity about them. Don't fucking growl at me like a beast. I'm not talking personality wise, Granger's not even in the same class as Tori, I'm talking physically. They're practically the same height and since Granger stopped doing whatever hideous thing she used to do to her hair…"

"Her mother did it." Draco's eyes widened as he realised he'd broken Granger's trust, for the first time in his life. "You can't tell anyone. Her mum was…I mean…Granger was…it's a Muggle thing. Her mum curled her hair and lightened it." Draco exhaled shakily, thankful he hadn't spilled the entire truth.

"You're not telling me everything and I don't even care, imagine that. As I was saying, their hair, their body shape, though Granger's tits are a bit bigger. Ow! Stop hitting me! What the fuck is your problem?!" Draco had launched himself off the sofa, smashing into Blaise, sending them both sprawling onto the hardwood.

"Don't talk about her like that." Draco hissed, clamping his teeth together while resisting the urge to pummel his friend into oblivion.

"You have issues you fucking son of a bitch and the sooner you suss your shit out, the better off you'll be." Blaise shoved the prone Draco Malfoy off his chest and spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine floor.

"I can't bloody do that now can I? I've got to marry bloody Astoria before the Yule holiday, which if you remember is approximately two months away. I'd give you an exact number of days if I hadn't spent the past week completely pissed." Draco rolled onto this back and stared at the water spot on the ceiling.

"Fifty five days until Yule. Don't look at me like that, the only reason I know is because Tori was prattling on and on about gifts and she hasn't the slightest idea what it is you'd like."

"Death…that could be a lovely gift."

* * *

After Blaise left Draco slumbering on his tatty sofa, he Apparated to an alley in Muggle London. It wasn't his favourite place, but it was free of the constrictions of the Wizarding World. It was easy to blend in with the shabby Muggles, as long as he remembered to keep his wand hidden.

It was Hermione's fault he'd ever discovered the peace in blending with Muggles. Blaise hadn't been friends with her when they attended Hogwarts, but they'd been friendly. He knew it was her idea when Draco tentatively sought him out. He supposed befriending the witch was just as much for him as it was for Draco.

Blaise grumbled under his breath, strolling casually through a play area for children, when he spotted Hermione stepping out from behind a nearby building. Shrugging, he followed her, his Slytherin curiosity getting the best of him. Blaise supposed he should have called out to her, but then she stepped into the most curious place he'd ever seen.

He knew Muggles had to do something with their deceased loved ones, but he'd never put much thought into it before. Being he was a wizard, he was quite used to families having their own personal burial grounds. He'd never seen such a large expanse of perfectly good land filled with headstones marking the graves of the dead.

Blaise observed Hermione casually walking through the paths, until she escaped his eye passed a thicket of shrubberies. Deciding it was best not to intrude, but unable to quench his curiosity, he Disillusioned himself and stood behind a particularly large tree. He held his breath when Hermione stopped between two gray headstones.

She brushed the dirt from the tops and casually shoved the fallen leaves aside before easily sitting between them. She twisted a piece of her dark hair, which caused Blaise to wonder if she missed her unruly curls. When she covered her face, he was tempted to walk away, but then Hermione began to speak.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. I know it's a silly little Muggle tradition, but I'd never forget where I came from. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I ever sent you away. I was so worried about you being caught up in a war, I never expected either of you to succumb to something so….ordinary afterwards." Blaise shifted, uncomfortable as Hermione wiped her cheeks angrily.

"I don't know what to do. I wish you were here. I know you were never particularly fond of my magic, and all it entailed and I never blamed you for that. You didn't understand, but you tried." Hermione sidled up to the nearest headstone, resting her cheek against its frigidity. Her hand stroked the words and while Blaise wasn't quite close enough to read the small lettering, he knew they said "Granger".

"I saw Malfoy the other day. I've been seeing him a lot lately. I'm not sure if it's planned or accidental and I don't even care. Dad, remember when you told me he must fancy me quite a bit to go to such lengths to make me angry? I thought Mum's head was fit to burst. I know you never liked Ron, but even after all the things I'd told you Malfoy had done, you never spoke disparagingly of him. I miss him. It truly was amazing how quickly we became friends. I'm glad I listened to you Dad. I'm glad I gave him a chance, but at the same time, I wish I hadn't. He really paid attention. It would have been intimidating if it were anyone else. Harry and Ron were so horrid when I told them we were friends, well that's not true, Ron more than anything. I swear I can hear you laughing. I'd never known you to dislike anyone as intensely as you disliked Ron."

"He wants to marry me, but I…I can't do it. I care about him, but I don't want to have red haired children who eat with their mouths open. I don't love him enough. I remember Mum telling me that once. She said Ron needed the sort of woman who would worship him and I would never be the sort. She wasn't wrong, I'm just stubborn. I've always been stubborn and look where its got me." Hermione covered her face with her glove clad fingers and sobbed for a moment.

"Malfoy's getting married." Hermione spoke so quietly, Blaise had to strain in order to hear her. "I don't expect I'll be invited, considering I'm sure Lucius still wishes I never existed. At least I won't have to watch it. There's a fair bit of consolation in that. I don't think I could manage. I know you were always hopeful something would happen between us, Dad. I never should have told you he kissed me. I remember you shouting 'I knew it' until Mum finally smacked you about the head." Hermione laughed through her tears and Blaise grinned in triumph.

"Thank you for adopting me. Thank you for curling my hair, even though I hated it, because you so desperately wanted me to look like you. Thank you teaching me to accept myself exactly as I am. Thank you for making me a Muggle-born witch, even though I'm not, because I would never have forged the relationships I have otherwise. It taught me to be stronger than I thought I could be. Mum, I'm glad Dad is with you now. I'm glad you're not alone. If you happen to see my birth mother, tell her I forgive her. I love you and I'll visit soon." Hermione struggled to her knees and with a final pat the gray stone, she stumbled down the path.

Blaise Zabini struggled with the freshly gleaned information. He waited until Hermione was a few steps from him and removed the Charm. She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, her honey eyes red-rimmed and wide.

"What are you…how did you…why are…" Hermione took a shaky breath and studied the olive skinned wizard with quizzical eyes. "How much did you hear?" She finally sighed, completely resigned.

Blaise seriously considered lying for a moment, in order to protect her dignity before deciding against it. Their friendship was beyond such platitudes. He remained silent, allowing his silence to speak for itself and observed Hermione's shoulders sag.

"Care for a cuppa? It's a bit nippy." Blaise offered warily, searching for the first signs to indicate her flight.

"I suppose that's our best recourse." Hermione accepted the offered arm and allowed Blaise to lead her toward a small bistro in a relatively deserted area.

* * *

Blaise Zabini chuckled with mirth, practically skipping down the cobblestone of Diagon Alley. He slipped into Flourish & Blotts simply to peruse their selection of new releases. Hastily, he held a periodical in front of his recognisable face when Draco and Astoria ambled past.

He'd avoided Malfoy to the best of his ability since taking tea with Hermione, but it was getting difficult. Blaise knew he wouldn't be able to keep her secrets if he met with Draco, and he was determined to keep his word, thankful she hadn't forced a Vow. He cursed lightly, drawing the attention of two wrinkled witches who glowered at him.

The last thing Blaise needed to see was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley walking toward Draco and Astoria. He knew it was the perfect opportunity, but he wasn't quite ready. When Blaise had told Draco to leave everything in his capable hands, he had meant it. However, he also hadn't the slightest idea how he would rectify the situation.

He had considered broaching the subject with Hermione, but knowing her stubborn nature and their recent talks, it wasn't an option. It wasn't that Hermione was afraid of Lucius Malfoy, she wasn't, but she would willingly forego her happiness for Draco Malfoy. It wasn't just him though, she'd do it for anyone because that's what selfless little Gryffindors did, which made Blaise ever so thankful he would always be a Slytherin.

"Fuck it." Blaise muttered as he slinked out of the shop.

He made his way toward the Weasley twins joke shop, blending in with a sudden surge of witches and wizards wandering about Diagon Alley. He knew exactly what he needed, but getting the twins to allow him the purchase was another matter entirely. Blaise supposed he could tempt them with the idea of wrecking a bit of havoc, but he was wary just the same.

"Zabini. I didn't know you had a sense of humour." Fred Weasley's narrowed eyes kept careful watch, expecting a bit of trouble, but Blaise ambled directly to the counter.

"I don't, but I know you've got exactly what I need." Blaise smiled. He removed his generous money pouch and plunked it on the counter.

"Tempting. What do you want then? I'm not agreeing, I'm simply willing to hear you out, which is more than George would do."

"You never tire of those one eared jabs, do ya?" Blaise shook his head, jingling the coins from his purse with a slow smile.

"Never! Course if it weren't for Malfoy, I wouldn't be making them at all, so I hope you aren't planning anything nefarious. I mean, I'd probably still help you, I just wouldn't like it." Fred winked and before Blaise knew it, Fred had wandered to the front of the shop and flipped the sign on the door to 'closed'.

"Wait, are you talking about the War?" Blaise furrowed his dark brows, suddenly confused.

"Well yeah, I mean I wouldn't call it the War necessarily, more like the Final Battle, course we didn't know it was the Final Battle then but…" Fred shuffled back behind the counter, uncomfortable with the turn of conversation.

Blaise realised Fred had drastically changed. He wasn't the exuberant jokester he once was and Blaise Zabini's interest was piqued. He'd naturally assumed the effects of the Wizarding Ward had altered Fred, but he wasn't privy to the details and Blaise did love details. He'd easily discovered all truths were in the details, which was what made him the perfect Slytherin.

"What did Malfoy do?" The slightest bit of guilt piqued his conscience, but it quickly passed when Fred Weasley's eyes lit with excitement.

"You really want to know? I mean, I'm not supposed to speak of it, even George refuses to hear of it but if you really want to know…"

"Why wouldn't I? Draco and I are friends, good friends really and he doesn't speak much of the War either. It's as if its become this horrid little secret and everyone keeps their thoughts on the matter to themselves, which is mind boggling really. I mean, how are any of you lot supposed to move forward if you can't face the past? I didn't fight in the War at all, I didn't pick a side, so I can't pretend I understand the ramifications of actually casting spells causing injury and death, but I'm quite good friends with Hermione Granger, so I have a general idea." Blaise had lowered his voice into a menacing sort of hiss, despite the lack of customers as he leaned onto the counter separating them.

"You know then? I mean about Malfoy and Hermione? It was _quite_ the little scandal." Fred wiggled his ginger eyebrows and Blaise was fairly certain he had uncovered not only yet another well-kept secret, but also an accomplice.

"I do believe we should indulge in libation if we're going to have a bit of gossip. It's not as if we can chatter over tea…"

"Surely not, we're not…women." Fred grimaced, feigning a shudder of revulsion.

"Tell you what, how about you give me a bit of that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and then we'll go for drinks until we're both in our cups." Blaise tossed Fred his pouch of coins and held his breath.

"What do you want that for?" Fred was wary once more, his thin frame stiffening with distrust.

"It's nothing Dark, I swear it. It's simply a matter of setting things right." Blaise shrugged and while he wasn't completely sure he was telling the truth, he wasn't exactly lying either.

Fred carefully considered the tanned wizard's words. He wanted nothing more than to drink himself into oblivion and recount moments his family didn't wish to discuss. He knew they didn't wish to be beholden to Draco Malfoy, but Fred didn't care about such things. He was alive and grateful. Fred wished his family felt the same, vaguely wondering how they would feel if he _had_ died.

"No ones going to be injured are they? I can't allow that…"

"Weasley, you've become quite distrustful. Can't say as I blame you. Find me a willing little wizard and you can help. You might actually enjoy yourself." Blaise smiled, knowing Fred wouldn't be able to resist.

Fred Weasley nodded and disappeared into the backroom. Blaise tapped his fingers impatiently, hoping the unlikely foursome hadn't resorted to blows when Fred returned. Blaise held his breath, quite pleased to see Fred leading a grubby little boy by the hand.

"This here is Elliot. He has a tendency to skulk about in the alley. His dad is pretty useless, so I give him odd jobs now and then for a few Knuts…"

"Me dad died last year. Ain't no account anyways. Mum works her fingers to the bone. I only doos stuff for you sose I can eat." The boy named Elliot scowled while attempting to free himself, but Fred held tight.

Blaise stared hard at the dirty little boy, bits and pieces of his childhood determined to make a reappearance. He nodded curtly, resisting the urge to wipe the smudges of dirt from the boy's cheeks. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his black slacks and retrieved a few coins. He listened hard as the boy's breath caught in his throat, just before his stomach growled.

"El, why didn't you tell me it got that bad?" Fred was used to seeing the boy rumpled and skittish rather than downright filthy and obviously starving.

"It ain't. Me mum ain't been back for a bit, but I'm alright. Is better than when me dad was 'round. Don't get cuffed nearly as much." Elliot smiled, quite pleased with himself and it was then Blaise noticed the lack of front teeth.

"How old are you?" Blaise cleared his throat, ignoring the questioning eyes of Fred.

"Seven. In four years? I gets to go to Hogwarts and I hears they have loads of food." Elliot sighed dreamily, stars dancing in his dark blue eyes and it just about broke their hearts.

"How would you like to do a little job for me?" Blaise inquired quietly, his thoughts leaping ahead.

"How much?" Elliot tried to scratch his head, but his fingers caught in his light brown curls and Fred was forced to disentangle the boy.

"Five galleons." It was more than a fair price, as Blaise hadn't intended to offer more than a few Sickles, but seeing Elliot had changed everything.

"Five galleons?! You serious? You not takin the piss?" Elliot looked up to Fred, waiting for his visions of pumpkin pasties to be ground into dust. "D'ya think ol' Tom would let me eat there? He shouts at me cuz I never had two Knuts to rub together, but…but if I showed him the galleons, he'd hafta wouldn't he?"

"Don't you worry about Tom, Elliot. Zabini and I will take care of it." Fred almost wished George were present to lighten the mood, suddenly remembering he was off with Angelina and scowling.

"What've I gotta do then?" Blaise pretended to be oblivious to the toe peaking through the top of Elliot's tatty shoe and carefully explained his hasty plan.

Fred led Elliot to the backroom when Blaise decided to step out for a moment of fresh air. He smiled grandly, forgetting for to remain hidden from prying eyes. His dark eyes widened when he spied Draco and Hermione against the picture window of Flourish & Blotts. He quickly spun on his heel, weaving between two comely witches and stepped into a darkened alcove.

Blaise was rethinking his half arsed plan, when Draco linked his fingers with Hermione's. The relief fluttering in his chest was welcome, even when Fred and little Elliot frightened him with their silent arrival. He clutched his chest, sagging against the door of a little shop, tempted to check the state of his trousers.

"You sure this will work?"

"No, but I practiced on cats if that helps."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, it was fu-bloody hilarious." Blaise coughed, more with embarrassment than anything else and gestured toward Draco. "See that really pale blond bloke? I want you to take that powder Fred gave you and toss it at his feet."

"Is it going to hurt them?" Elliot whispered, clinging to the warmth as he was wedged between the two wizards.

"Absolutely not. That pale fellow is my mate, my best mate I suppose you could say and he fancies the girl beside him." Elliot peered around Blaise Zabini's waist and squinted his eyes.

"He's holdin' her hand, so what's the problem eh? D'ya want her for yerself?"

"Merlin no. He's supposed to marry the other girl, by the great big red buffoon."

"They look alike, sisters almost. Whatchu wanna do then? I don't mind tossin' at them and all, I'd just like to know." Elliot was quite enjoying being included in very adult schemes, and he didn't relish the idea of returning to his cold, dark shack.

"We're going to play a riveting game of Switch the Witch." Blaise and Fred chuckled lightly and while Elliot didn't exactly understand the implications, he smiled just the same. "I'm going to make myself invisible so I can go with you. It's not because I don't trust you, so don't fret. I've simply got to cast a spell and I'll need to be close to them."

Elliot nodded slowly, yet the distrust was almost palpable in his dark blue eyes. Blaise winked and grasped Elliot's hand. He opened the tight little fist and unfurled it slowly. He thought the poor kid's eyes were going to burst from his head when Blaise gently placed five galleons in Elliot's palm and closed his fist.

"I've never touched a galleon before." Elliot whispered, stroking the coins with reverence.

"Stick with us kid, you'll touch plenty. Promise." Fred ruffled the boy's filthy hair without a grimace, though he did wipe his hand on the back of his slacks.

"I run over there, throw the magic dirt on the ground by the blond bloke and then what?"

"Run straight back here as fast as you. You won't make it before it's dark, but I'll call for you." Fred squatted beside Elliot, wishing he had taken more of an interest in the boy, but determined to rectify the situation. "I'll take you to meet my mum. She won't let you leave until you're so full of delicious foods you won't be able to move for a week."

"Promise?" Blaise was afraid the boy would cry and his heart couldn't take much more.

"You don't have to do it. I suppose I could do it myself."

"No! I'll do it! I'll do it right now!" Fred was positive Elliot was adamant due to the number of galleons safely tucked in his pocket, but he didn't have a chance to even entertain the idea of discussing it with Blaise.

Elliot spun on his heel and darted into the throng of witches of wizards. Blaise cussed under his breath, yet with a quick wave of his wand, he was Disillusioned and chasing after a small dirty boy. He bumped into a hunched old wizard, but it wasn't as if the man could see him anyway.

Blaise skidded to a stop, waving his arms in order to avoid crashing into Ron Weasley. His breathing was heavy but with the bustle around them, it wasn't noticeable. He held his wand carefully, studying Astoria and Hermione's positions as Elliot gave the group an impish sort of smile and tossed the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to the ground.

"What the bloody hell?!" Ron Weasley shouted, obviously angry, but what else was new?

"It'll pass, just stay where you are." Draco's lazy drawl carried across the terrified shrieks and shouts.

"That little bastard…" Ron growled and while his first inclination should have been to immediately make his way toward Hermione, he remained still.

Astoria Greengrass clung to his arm and it didn't bother him quite as much as he thought it should. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of Hermione locked in the pitch black with Draco Malfoy, but as he couldn't see the hand in front of his face, there was nothing he could do but remain calm.

Ron attempted to keep Astoria calm, awkwardly patting her back as she whimpered. He was vaguely aware of Malfoy whispering, but it was difficult to make out the words with the sounds of crying children surrounding them. Hermione, he realised wasn't saying a word, which wasn't like her at all and make his hackles rise in suspicion. Ron might not have been the brightest wizard, but he was well aware of the fact, Hermione's feelings were waning and it didn't sit well with him at all. He opened his mouth to shout over to her, but he was thumped on the back of his neck and crumpled to the ground without a word.

"What the fuck? Get off me!" Draco Malfoy shouted as he was torn away from Hermione Granger and tossed in an unceremonious heap onto the ground.

" _Switch the witch  
Two by two,  
Just their face,  
Not body too.  
Make them real,  
Make it right,  
Their true loves eyes  
Will give them sight." _

Draco struggled to place the whispered voice, knowing the familiarity wasn't a figment of his imagination. He attempted to stand, wobbling on his knees, still surrounded in a black haze. He coughed, covering his mouth quickly and gave up. Draco Malfoy crawled along the cobblestone, determined to make his way back to Granger.

He sighed in relief, the aching, pounding in his chest slowly ebbing when his fingers caught on her hair. He knew it was her, it had to be her. Draco struggled with her unconscious form, fear bubbling in his chest when he realised she wasn't responding. He didn't know who had struck him, he could only fervently wish nothing untoward had happened to her.

He managed to prop himself against the harsh stone and yank the witch onto his lap. Draco carefully cradled her head and buried his nose in her hair. He was soothed by her gentle exhales, the lingering mint on her breath, and the clinging scent of lavender from her hair products.

He hated his future. He hated the idea of every carefully laid plan being predetermined before he was even born. He hated not standing up to his father and the idea his inheritance meant more to him than anything else, because it didn't. It was only galleons, millions of galleons, but galleons just the same. They didn't make him feel the way _she_ did, and so Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, clinging to the moments where he was still allowed to hold Hermione Granger while she slept.


	5. Cluttered Chaos

**AN: Alright, this chapter is flashback heavy & while that wasn't the intention...that's the way it worked out. While I still have some kinks to work out, it's coming along nicely...at least I think so.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Cluttered Chaos

* * *

The moment the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder hit the ground, Draco Malfoy was shielding Hermione's body with his own. She understood his actions, more than anyone else would. She didn't fight him, allowing him to work through the lack of danger on his own.

"I could leave, right now and no one would be the wiser, except for you of course. You wouldn't out me, would you Granger?" Draco's lips brushed against the outer shell of her ear and she closed her eyes, breathing deep.

"Where would you go? Your father would find you and I can't imagine the hell you would pay. Is it worth all that?" Hermione stroked his cheek, hoping the darkness would clear before the anxiety settled in her chest.

"You could come with me. You're the brightest witch I've ever known." Draco knew he was grasping at straws, but straws were all he had, and he didn't even completely understand the concept of them.

 _Draco shook Hermione's shoulders, unmindful of the wary stares and downright glares. She took it in stride, barely blinking before shoving his hands from her._

" _It's dangerous."_

" _I'm aware Malfoy, but if we don't have Harry we don't have much of anything." Hermione shook her head, glancing quickly at the sky._

" _Let me do it." Molly Weasley was fully prepared to intervene, but the gentle hand of her husband kept her in place, her face softening as she read the utter and complete devastation on the pale boy's face._

" _You can't. You're not of age…"_

" _I am, Granger. You bloody well know I am."_

" _You're grasping at straws. You know as well as I do, they'd never allow it. They don't trust you completely, not yet."_

" _I don't know why you insist on using those Muggle phrases. You know I don't understand them. We could just leave, you don't have to…"_

" _It'll be fine Malfoy. It's not as if I'm going off alone. Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin, they're all quite accomplished, besides, due to your ridiculous fuss, it seems as I'll be with Kingsley. We'll be back before you know it." Hermione smiled quickly and despite their present company, stretched up and kissed his cheek._

" _If you're done coddling your charge…" Alastor Moddy growled, gruff as ever, his cane thumping on the dirt with impatience._

 _Draco watched Hermione scurry away, her ridiculous curls bouncing. She gave him a final wave before disappearing over the hill and Draco was certain every good thing in his life had just walked away._

"I-I…" Before she could reject him, Draco swooped down and kissed her, holding her face in his hands.

As his lips moved across hers, Hermione didn't close her eyes, there wasn't a need as they were surrounded in darkness. She allowed herself to succumb to his ministrations, forgetting the world around them even existed. She hated herself as much as she loved him, begrudgingly admitting the secret she held close.

She knew he'd never defy his father, not for her, not for anyone, and she wouldn't ask him too. She loved him enough to let him go, no matter how much it broke the fragile pieces of her heart. Hermione knew she'd never admit to feeling the way she did, it would only wreck havoc in her life as well as his. She supposed she was a little too selfless in the end, and would rather see him find the happiness, which had eluded him thus far.

Hermione pulled away from the comfort of his warm lips against hers. She withdrew from his firm hands on her hips, holding her in place, while wondering when he had pulled her so close. Her petite fingers stroked the sinews of his neck, slowly falling to his chest and pushing ever so lightly.

"One day we'll be alright." Hermione whispered, sniffling softly when he refused to release her. "Maybe not today or even tomorrow, but one day."

Draco shook his head, knowing she couldn't see him, his upper lip twitching with self-loathing. She continued to tug against him, but he couldn't let her go, not yet. He wasn't ready and the very idea he'd pretended she was nothing more than his friend for years, angered him more than words could say.

"Granger, we'll never be alright. I think no matter how much times passes, it will always be you, and that terrifies the hell out of me." As he held her ridiculously tight against his chest, his nose buried in her hair, he felt the sob escape her chest.

"You can't. You can't do this to me, not now. Not after all this time." Hermione shook her head violently, desperately clutching his forearms, clenching her teeth together in order to keep hold of her precarious façade.

"What the fuck?! Get off me!" Hermione's arms grasped the thin air as Draco Malfoy was ripped from her.

She felt the sting of magic, her knees buckling, her restrained sobs spilling forth. She crumpled to the ground, breathing in deep gasps. Her memories flipped quickly through her mind, much like a children's picture book and she gripped her head before lying on the cobblestone. Hermione's last thoughts, before her dark eyes fluttered shut, were of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

The staccato clip of heeled brown leather boots across hospital tile didn't even draw a curious eye. The Healers and Mediwitches tending their patients were used to such things, though their eyebrows rose quite high when they caught sight of the witch. It wasn't her dark brown trench coat, nor the swirly plaid pattern on her long skirt, which drew their attention, no, it was the bubblegum pink spikes masquerading as hair that shocked them the most.

She wasn't particularly tall in stature, but she exuded a confidence, causing the eyes of every wizard to follow the sway of her hips. She winked at them, continuing on her way with the slightest bounce to her step. She ignored the Healer frantically waving in her direction and studied the numbers etched beside the doors until she came upon the room in question. Raising her fist, she thumped her knuckles harshly three times and turned the handle.

She crashed into the dark haired wizard standing near the opened door the moment she crossed the threshold, quickly righting herself without the slightest trace of embarrassment. She nodded quickly and slinked along the wall before she startled the slumbering patients.

"Wotcher, Harry." The brunette witch closest to the window started in her sleep and Harry frowned at the movement. "Do ya think they'll wake soon?"

Harry tore his brilliant green gaze from the two witches and turned to his companion. A small half smile broke and her dark eyes twinkled with mischief. He kissed her cheek, his fingers entangling with hers, when the witch nearest the door groaned.

"They really are quite similar aren't they? Ya sure ya know which witch is which?" She laughed and it was the sort of laughter that would have been infectious under different circumstances.

"Bet you think you're funny, don't you?" Harry tugged her hand, quite enamored with the witch. "Your hair is back."

"Shut up and kiss me." He didn't need to be told twice, quickly pressing eager lips against willing plum ones.

Harry couldn't say he had expected to enter into a relationship with his godson's mother, but it had happened slow and quite easily. They were both a bit of a mess after the war and sought comfort in each other. He couldn't compare Ginny leaving him to Remus Lupin's death, but he understood her loss and she understood his pain. They were an unlikely pair and knowing such, had kept their extracurricular activities surreptitious from their friends and family.

"Nymphadora!" Narcissa Malfoy's flabbergasted gasp caused the pair to quickly separate, Harry wiping specks of lipstick from his mouth.

"Do not call me that." Harry casually wandered to the window the moment Tonk's hair turned a vicious sort of red.

He studied the furrow in the brows of the witch nearest the window, leaning forward in order to search for freckles across the bridge of her nose. While they were sleeping, it was sadly difficult to tell them apart. He was fairly certain the witch near the door was Hermione, if only from the freckles on her hand. The Healers had resolutely refused to allow him to inspect their bodies, claiming their privacy was more important than his investigation.

"It seems you still have a penchant for the inappropriate." Narcissa scowled, but it didn't reach her clear blue eyes.

"I never did learn to behave myself." Tonk's offered a half shrug before embracing her aunt.

Narcissa clucked her tongue, air kissing her niece while pretending Harry Potter didn't exist. She had quickly adjusted to her life after the fall of Voldemort, yet the scarred wizard had always managed to raise her hackles. She supposed it was the lingering influence of her husband, or perhaps it was the knowledge her son had forged an understanding with the boy. It certainly didn't aid her husband's efforts to cling to his ridiculous ideals.

"Wasn't expecting to see you." Narcissa whispered, her blue eyes flickering between the sleeping witches.

"It's my watch. I thought you'd be with my little cousin." Tonks carefully scruntinised her aunt, noticing the subtle crinkles around her eyes, and the barest hint of purple bruises beneath them.

"I was, but he's disgruntled with my presence. He believes I'm smothering him and quite honestly there's only so much abuse I'm prepared to take. He apologised of course, and then he begged me a favour." Narcissa glanced between the witches and Tonks, curious if not slightly confused.

"Oh yeah. I read about little cousin's engagement. You've come to see to Astoria then?" Tonks smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the tightening of her aunt's jaw, and Harry's frown.

Narcissa sat beside Hermione Granger and swept her tumbled dark waves off her forehead. She stroked the woman's cheek, studying her golden brown eyelashes and sighed. It would have been easier to lie to her niece than to admit her assumptions before the likes of Harry Potter.

Harry looked to Tonks and shrugged. He knew better than to attempt to converse with the Matriarch. He didn't hate her, but he couldn't say he was particularly fond of her either. They had an understanding, which remained in place as long as they respected the boundaries. With a small wave, Harry slipped into the corridor, deciding to pay Draco Malfoy a visit.

"He loves her. I'm not even sure the poor boy is aware. I suspected, but of course, Lucius refused to hear of it. I chose Astoria Greengrass due to her similarities to Ms. Granger. It would be best if this were to remain…our little secret." Tonks gasped lightly, her bubblegum pink hair seguing into a dowdy brown. "Don't pretend to be surprised, Nymphadora. I'm sure you're well acquainted with the nature of their relationship. It's not as if they were particularly astute at hiding their liaisons. I allowed my son to think me nothing more than a fool, as he was happy. Lucius, destroyed it, as he destroys everything and I did the best I could under the circumstances." Narcissa sighed heavily and Tonks realised it was the first time she'd ever seen her aunt express the slightest bit of vulnerability.

"Actually, I didn't see them much. Draco was withdrawn and avoided most of us. Then of course, the lot of them disappeared after the Ministry fell. How do you reckon that's Hermione?" Tonks gestured toward the hand held in Narcissa's curiously.

"Your beau has much more information than he's willing to share…"

"My beau? N-No, Harry and I are just friends…" Tonks sputtered, but her eyes meshed into a wondrous green.

"Yes, my son said the same of Ms. Granger. As to how I know? It's obvious. Astoria's finger is adorned with the Malfoy Family Ring. I had given it to Draco prior to the announcement and he'd adamantly refused to give it to her. It seems he changed his mind. It alters to the witch and I was more than surprised to discover the elegant, yet subtle quality of the ring, knowing Astoria's penchant for the ostentatious. It doesn't matter I suppose, it's not as if it can be removed." The tenderness Narcissa was showing toward Hermione, startled Tonks slightly.

She was well aware of the fact her mother and aunt had begun repairing their relationship, despite the blatant disapproval of Lucius Malfoy, and it made her glad. She wished nothing but happiness for her mother, knowing she missed Ted desperately. Tonks swallowed hard, her heart filled with love for Remus, yet no matter how hard she tried, her hair remained a lifeless brown.

"I-I need to step out and speak with their Healers." Tonks hurried from the room, her chest constricting, and her breaths laboured.

She practically ran down the corridor, battling her emotions until she discovered the washroom. Tonks slammed the door, immediately splashing cold water on her face until her heart calmed. She glared at her reflection, unable to channel her magic properly. Her bottom lip quivered and finally, Nymphadora Tonks cried.

* * *

Blaise Zabini groaned to himself while washing his hands. He'd snuck into the loo to avoid yet another riveting monologue stemming from Draco Malfoy. He'd already observed Narcissa's nerves fray, until she left with a swiftness he envied.

He inspected his flawless skin in the mirror, delaying his inevitable return to his mate's side. Personally, he believed everything was going swimmingly. He'd managed to cajole a tatty child to carry out the first step in his master plan. He'd cast the spell, and while he wasn't expecting to get a front row seat to Draco's confessions , it worked as far as he knew.

Blaise was waiting with bated breath for the witches to awaken, as he supposed others were as well. He'd witnessed Ron Weasley pacing the corridors and a few Auror shift changes, yet they still slept. He wasn't counting on that. To be honest, he wasn't counting on being forced to strike his mate, but Blaise knew in the end, it would all work out.

He'd had a devil of a time snatching the Malfoy Ring from Draco's bureau. Blaise knew Draco hadn't intended upon presenting it to his arranged fiancée. Instead, he was planning on having Astoria purchase her own ring, with his Gringott's account of course. Blaise snickered into his large palm, hoping he would be present when Draco spied the ring on a slender finger.

If it weren't for Elliot, Blaise would have left the witches in their own clothes, which would have ruined everything really. A gentle flick of his wand had the witches quickly clothed in the other's robes. Now however, it was a matter of deceiving Harry Potter.

Blaise slowly stepped into the hospital room, while Draco growled at the Mediwitches and thrust his arms into his robes. If it hadn't been for the fact Draco had struck his head, he would have been released after a few Potions and Healing Spells, much like Ron Weasley. He felt slightly guilty for injuring Draco, but it wouldn't last, it never did.

"You really expect me to believe you had nothing to do with this?" Blaise rolled his eyes skyward. Potter's accusations were completely unfounded, but once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.

"I can't believe you're still an idiot, Potter."

"That's not true at all, in fact you go out of your way to point it out." Harry shook his head, his dark hair shifting. "I don't know why you're determined to be rude. It's not as if we're not…"

"Don't say it, Potter." Draco shoved his wand into a pocket of his robes with an angry snarl. "I have better things to do than have a chat with you."

"They're not awake yet." Harry spoke softly, gauging Malfoy's reaction.

He wasn't the least bit surprised to discover a stiffening of the wizard's limbs and a tight set to his jaw. Harry suspected the Malfoy heir wasn't in a rush to sit with his fiancée, no, he knew it was the other witch in question, which drew his concern. He'd witnessed plenty during the war and after such things, it was impossible to deny the attraction between his best friend and his former enemy.

He never understood how Hermione could be so forgiving, but he supposed it was in her nature. Merlin knew the number of times Ron had been absolutely insensitive and she'd accepted his mumbled apologies without a second thought. Harry thought it would be different when faced with Draco Malfoy, but it seemed Hermione didn't discriminate when it came to forgiveness, and he wasn't about to fault her for it.

" _The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_

 _The last person Harry expected to see was Draco Malfoy. Sure, the wizard was a victim of Polyjuice just as much as he, but it was still peculiar to see the Malfoy trademark scowl on the face of an impostor Weasley. Draco yanked Harry and Hermione to their feet, his eyes scouring the befuddled crowd as the wedding guests began Disapparating._

" _Weasley's just there, come on then. You lot don't expect to remain here do you?" Draco kept a firm grip on Hermione's arm, a knowing look in his faux blue eyes._

 _Harry held fast to Hermione's hand unwilling to be lost in the scuffle of fleeing guests. A streak of light flashed over their heads and for a moment Harry couldn't help but to wonder if it was a protective spell or something more sinister. It didn't matter, not really and soon enough they stumbled upon Ron, who took a moment to glower at Malfoy, despite the dire circumstances._

" _Where are we?" Ron was the first to speak after their abrupt Side-Along Apparition._

" _Does it really matter, Weasley?" Draco growled, doggedly following Hermione and Harry noticed she didn't put up a fuss when it came to his hand still firmly clenched around her own._

" _Why is he here? We should go back. We need to figure out what's going on…" Ron hissed, practically leaping out of the way of the clueless Muggles._

" _We know what's going on, we can't risk going back. You should know better than anyone it's Potter they're after. Why not simply present him as a gift?" Even Harry had to stifle a laugh._

 _Hermione gasped and dragged them into a narrow alley, rummaging in her beaded purse. She withdrew Harry's Invisibility Cloak and hastily tossed it over them as the last vestiges of Polyjuice wore off. She shuddered a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around her waist as was her habit._

" _You knew we were planning on leaving, didn't you?" Harry asked, quickly rubbing his forehead._

" _It seems you lot are not nearly as secretive as you think you are. Weasley in particular, it's quite easy to hear him go on." Harry held Ron's arm as it seemed he was going to strike the bloke._

" _Yeah, alright, I'll give you that, but why are you_ _ **here**_ _?" Ron hissed, finally mindful of his surroundings. Draco sneered as he stared into Ron's blue eyes, calming slightly when Hermione touched his forearm._

" _Because_ _ **she's**_ _all I've got."_

"Why don't you tell me what happened." Harry shoved his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose and waited.

Draco's fingers ran through his hair as he continuously glanced toward the door. He wondered how far he'd get before fucking Potter had St. Mungo's coming down around his ears. He supposed Blaise would aid him, but eventually he'd still be forced to answer the same questions. In the end, Draco decided it wasn't worth it and curled his lip toward the irritating wizard.

"I told you already, Potter. Granger and I were conversing. Astoria and Weasley were arguing and a little bastard came and threw that bloody Darkness Powder at our feet." Draco wished nothing more than to jinx the green-eyed bastard, but he wasn't about to risk a stint in Azkaban.

"Yeah so, tell me what you didn't tell me before. What were you and Hermione talking about? What happened after the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder took over Diagon Alley?" Draco bitterly refused to answer, eyeing the door, fantasies of escaping overtaking him. "Look, I don't want to be here anymore than you want to be here. I'm not stupid, I've always suspected there was something going on between you two. It wouldn't surprise me if you got a little overzealous and…" Harry choked, as Draco Malfoy's forearm was wedged against his throat before he was slammed into the wall.

"I would never…" Draco spat, his cheeks flushed and rage flashing in his eyes.

He took a deep breath before stepping away from Harry, refusing to apologise for his actions. It was insulting to think for even a moment he would do anything untoward to her. The very idea Harry Potter would suggest he was still a hate fueled wizard chaffed quite a bit.

"I didn't think so, but I also didn't think you'd lose your temper quite that quickly. In case you don't remember, I still spent more than a fair amount of time with you and Hermione in that bloody tent. I understand how these things go. I also understand you're bound to marry another witch. I can't imagine that being particularly pleasant considering where your affections lie." Harry nodded at Blaise, catching the wizard off-guard, which was exactly Harry's intention. He knew Blaise had more information than he was sharing and the calculating dark eyes confirmed his suspicions.

Blaise Zabini was suddenly interested in the blank beige walls, studying them carefully. The collar of his navy button down was suddenly exceedingly tight and he pulled on it lightly. Draco, on the other hand, dropped his eyes to the floor, his shoulders sagging.

"I asked her to come with me. Is that what you want to hear Potter? I fucking begged her, because I'm a selfish bastard and I don't give a weasel's arse how much it upsets your ginger mate. I kissed her as well, are you fucking happy now? I don't know what happened. I was struck, she was on the ground, I crawled over to her, and then I was here. If you're quite finished, I do believe they said I could leave." Draco shoved his way passed Harry Potter and vacated his room without a backward glance.

"That went well Potter, good job." Blaise wiggled his dark eyebrows and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.

"It wasn't nearly as awful as I thought it would be. Quite frankly, I'm impressed he didn't resort to blows." Harry shrugged in a good-natured sort of way, completely nonplussed.

Blaise rounded the shorter wizard slowly, instantly on guard. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea that the greatly esteemed Harry Potter was privy to information he wasn't aware existed. His first instinct was to balk at the idea, but considering where Malfoy's allegiance laid during the war, Blaise supposed stranger things had and did happen.

"Oi, Potter. What were you going on about? Did Malfoy actually confide in you? I mean I knew he was in dire straits during the war, but I can't imagine…" Blaise faux shuddered, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes while he needled Harry Potter.

"Merlin forbid, Zabini. I spent loads of time just…thinking. It's amazing what you can pick up just from listening and watching. For instance, I know Hermione isn't going to marry Ron. She loves him, but not the way he wants her too. I've known for years. Hell, I figured it out before she did." Harry had a faraway sort of look in his eyes and Blaise snapped his fingers, anxious to get back on topic.

"Come on then! You can't just say something like that and not finish. Does any of it have to do with Malfoy?" Harry sighed, staring into the distance and recalled events he almost wished he didn't remember.

" _I get it. You choose them."_

"Ron, no – please – come back, come back!"

 _Ron stormed away into the night and it took Hermione a bit to remove her own Shield Charm, but by then, Ron was out of sight. Harry simply stood, still and silent, listening to the sound of her sobs while she crashed through the trees._

" _He's gone. Disapparated!" Hermione shoved her sopping wet curls off her face, collapsing into a chair upon her return._

 _Harry picked up the discarded Horcrux and locked eyes with the silent grey-eyed wizard. He nodded toward Hermione and handed him a blanket before flouncing onto his own bed. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and listen to the sounds of rain pattering against the canvas, but Draco Malfoy intrigued him._

 _The last thing Draco Malfoy wished to do was comfort a distraught witch, let alone Hermione Granger. It was dangerous, entirely too dangerous, but he couldn't watch her crumble. Draco approached her slowly, obviously unsure of himself and Harry averted his eyes, blinking hard. When he looked toward them once more, Draco had squatted beside Hermione and wrapped the thin wool blanket around her shoulders._

" _Come on, Granger. Can't let you sit about like this. You're soaked through. I don't imagine Potter would be able to carry on if you were to catch ill." Harry was shocked to hear the soft-spoken concern stemming from the wizard and even more shocked when Hermione wiped her face, slowly nodding._

 _Hermione allowed him to take her hand and lead her to her feet. She dutifully followed him toward her bed, instantly sitting at the foot. She didn't blink when Draco carefully pulled her hair from beneath the blanket and dried it with a threadbare towel._

 _Harry felt as though he was intruding on something entirely too intimate for prying eyes, but he couldn't look away. It was astounding to see Draco Malfoy carefully wiping the ice cold rain droplets from her arms, casting Warming Charms and turning his back while Hermione replaced her jumper with the dry one he'd provided. Harry held his breath when he observed the pale hand rising to cup Hermione's cheek and the way she leaned into his touch as he sat beside her._

" _Get some sleep, Granger." The gruffness was long gone from Draco's voice, as if it had never been there._

" _I always thought it would be you who left." Her voice wavered, her bottom lip quivered and Draco Malfoy drew her into his arms._

" _Do you want me to?" Draco wrapped a dry blanket around her shoulders tightly and stood, but Hermione's hand wrapped around his wrist so fast, he gasped._

" _Stay."_

"I fucking knew it. Bloody bastard, and his 'oh we're just friends Blaise', I _knew_ he was lying! This is even better than I imagined, I can't wait to see how it will all play out." Blaise Zabini chortled, rubbing his hands together with a sly grin.

"Zabini…what did you do?" Harry groaned and tucked his wand in his back pocket.

"You'll find out soon enough, Potter." Blaise winked, clapped the shorter wizard on the shoulder, and strolled down the corridor.

"This isn't going to end well." Harry groaned, wishing he were anywhere but there.


	6. Wide Awake

**AN: Sorry for the wait! It's been a hectic few weeks. I had a bit of issue with the Astoria/Hermione usage, but I'm working on it and I hope everything flows properly.**

 **As always...enjoy *kisses***

* * *

Wide Awake

* * *

Astoria Greengrass was vaguely aware of murmuring voices near her bed. She assumed she was in bed, as wherever she was lying was quite comfortable. Mentally she assessed her limbs, before flexing her fingers, and wiggling her toes.

"She's awake!" Astoria didn't recognise the voice, but it had a matronly sort of concern.

There was a fair amount of shuffling, and the sounds of breathing permeated her muddled mind. She shifted her eyes beneath her lids and took a long, slow breath. Astoria opened her eyes slowly, her long lashes fluttering as she adjusted to the overbearing brightness. She glanced up at a sea of faces, opened her mouth, and screamed.

"That went well." Astoria gripped the sheet, dragging it up to her chin with short, shallow breaths.

She couldn't help but to glance at the two wizards near the foot of her bed. She scrutinized their faces, searching for something to set them apart, but it seemed they were quite identical. Their eyes softened when they noticed her staring at them and they smiled, with the slightest bit of mischief.

"Alright, out with you!" A heavy-set Mediwitch brandished her wand, and Astoria watched the sea of red-haired witches and wizards vacate her personal space.

"I'm staying." An older red haired witch glowered at the shorter graying witch, almost daring her to argue and in the end, the Mediwitch nodded curtly.

"Hello dear, I'm sure you quite confused. I'm Mediwitch Kensi. Healer Greene shan't be but a moment." The Mediwitch patted Astoria's hand and she shrunk away from the woman, confusion marring her deep brown eyes.

"I don't like green." Astoria whispered, shivering from the shadow of a memory she couldn't recall.

"You love green." The older red haired witch looked perfectly aghast and moved as if to touch Astoria's forehead, but she hid her face with a whimper.

"Mrs. Weasley, please don't press the poor girl. It would be best if you joined the rest of your family. I'll be sure you're sent for the moment the Healer is through." Mediwitch Kensi entered into a glowering contest with Mrs. Weasley and it was obvious she won when the red haired witch left the room with a furious swish of her robes.

Astoria allowed the graying witch to assist her as she sat up. Her pillows were fluffed and she drank a tall glass of water without argument. She inspected the shape of her hands, the length of her fingers with new eyes and the Mediwitch smoothed her hair with a small smile.

"Ah Kensi, I see our sleeping beauty has woken from her slumber." Healer Greene closed the nondescript door with a bang, instantly warding it against the disgruntled gathering in the corridor.

Kensi shook her head, used to his Muggle references. She expected her patient to at least crack a smile, but her face was as blank as her eyes. Kensi was intrigued by the silence. She was used to being barraged by angry patients, anxious to get on their way, but this one was different.

Frankly, she was a bit unnerved when it came to treating a witch hailed as one of the saviours of the wizarding world. Her every move was carefully watched and everything she did was questioned. It would wear anyone down, but Mediwitch Kensi wasn't anyone. She was a strong witch and she had spent many a year tending the ill.

"This is Healer Greene. He'll ask you a few questions, run a quick diagnostic and then we'll allow your family to visit. Another day or two and you should be fit to return home." Kensi patted Astoria's hand, quickly refilling her glass with a patient smile.

The tall dark haired Healer smiled brightly at the pretty petite witch. It wasn't often his talents were utilised when it came to pretty young things. He was often delegated to older, disgruntled patients as he had a particularly patient and soothing bedside manner.

"Hello, I'm Healer Greene. Can you tell me your name?" He removed his wand from his lime green robes, quickly muttering a few spells under his breath.

Astoria offered a quick smile and a roll of her eyes. His niceties were irritating her and he'd barely spoken to her. She huffed with indignation befitting her pureblood upbringing and held out her empty glass. Healer Greene took it with a quizzical glance and a slight frown.

"Is this really necessary? I feel perfectly fine." She folded her hands in her lap, staring up at the handsome Healer. "Your looks don't impress me in the least. There's no need to smile so brightly. It's a bit ridiculous. No one's ever that happy. Well, I suppose that's not true. Hufflepuffs are that happy." Astoria gave Kensi a sidelong glance and damned if the older witch wasn't forced to feign a cough in order to cover her laughter.

"You're a rude thing aren't you. I expected better of Hermione Granger." Healer Greene stiffened, his lips finally closing over his teeth.

"Hermione Granger? Who the bloody hell is that?" Astoria glanced between the Mediwitch and the Healer with curious eyes, noticing the way they avoided her.

"Give us a moment dear, I'll be right back." Kensi hurried Healer Greene through the door, sighing heavily.

Molly Weasley hurried to them, disregarding the nervous looks the two were giving each other. She took in Healer Greene from head to toe, taking a sudden dislike to him. He was too handsome, too helpful, and too bloody nice for her tastes. Instead, she turned to the busty Mediwitch with hopeful eyes.

"She's alright then?" Mediwitch Kensi varied her weight between her feet, clearing her throat a few times.

"It seems, there's a slight complication. Healer Greene will explain it to you. I really need to see to my other charge. Perhaps she's awake as well."

Kensi was ever so grateful Healer Greene had separated her patients. She shook her head quickly and hurried along the corridor. As she stood before yet another door, she heard Molly Weasley shriek in disbelief. She was once more ever so grateful she wasn't Healer Greene and pushed open the door.

She wasn't the least bit surprised to see the regal blonde witch sitting near the bedside of her patient. However, she wasn't expecting the blond gentleman, who was so obviously the woman's son. He was sitting on the bed, simply staring at her patient, with curious eyes.

"Has she woken?" Kensi nodded quickly to Narcissa, intent upon inspecting her patient.

"She opened her eyes. She said a few words, though I wasn't able to hear them. I suspect they weren't for my ears." Narcissa arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow in her son's direction and fell silent.

Draco stiffened noticeably, yet ignored his mother's words. He was caught in a dream, it had to be a dream. It didn't make sense otherwise. She couldn't know. She wasn't there.

" _Granger you're being unreasonable. Even Potter agrees this is our best bet. With all those bloody Snatchers wandering about, what choice do we have? You can't expect me to just follow you lot about on your little secretive mission when I could do some actual good." Ron Weasley huffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head._

 _He detested being stuck with the git, but he'd made the most of it. He also happened to despise the amount of time the bastard spent with Hermione, but she wouldn't hear anything to the contrary. He knew Malfoy had feelings for his girl, but Hermione swore they were just friends. Right, as if he looked at his friends like that._

" _I'm sorry Hermione, but Malfoy's right. If Luna is alive…"_

" _Don't say that, don't say it!" squealed Hermione. "She must be alive, she must!"  
_

" _Then she'll be in Azkaban, I expect…" said Ron, but Draco quickly interjected._

" _No. She'll be at the Manor. There are dungeons beneath and You-Know-Who has been residing in my family home since all this shit began." Draco managed to resist the urge to sneer at the ginger haired bastard, but only for Hermione's sake._

" _And what then? You're just going to blast into your bloody Manor and rescue Luna and whoever else your evil family has locked up?" Ron spat angrily, reaching for Hermione, who evaded his grasping hands._

" _You're completely short sighted Weasley. They'd welcome me back. I'd be punished of course, but the information I could glean could change the entire face of the war. Severus swore he would protect my mother, but she's still trapped in the Manor. At least you know your family is safe." Hermione's cool hand stroked his forearm, calming the bubbling rage and he glanced down at her with obvious affection._

" _Oi, Ron, give them a minute. If anyone can talk a bit of sense into Malfoy, it's Hermione." Harry nodded toward the taller wizard and Draco knew, as strange as it was, Harry Potter understood his need for a moment with Hermione._

" _I don't like this. I don't like it at all."_

" _Granger, I don't much like it either, but what choice is there? I'm a resource, it would be stupid not to utilise me." Draco looked over Hermione's head and was thankful Ron Weasley's back faced him._

 _He quickly drew Hermione into his arms, smothering himself with her curls. The sweet scent of citrus and herbs had long since waned, but he wasn't against relying on a memory. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking and he was touched by her concern._

" _I might…have to do things you'd look down upon. It…might be necessary in order to secure my place."_

" _Why are you telling me this?" Hermione hastily wiped her cheeks, resting her head against his heart, her arms locked around his waist._

" _I wouldn't want you to hear of it later and despise me for keeping it from you. I won't let anything happen to you Granger, I promise."_

 _They were momentarily distracted by Harry and Ron arguing. It was a fairly common occurrence, but there was something different this day. Draco had half a mind to block them out and simply kiss the girl, but he really didn't enjoy the idea of being jinxed._

" _Harry…"_

" _Come on! Why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—"_

" _HARRY NO!"_

" _-demort's after the Elder Wand!"_

" _The name's Taboo!" Ron shouted and Draco immediately shoved Hermione behind him, knowing they were out of time._

 _The shouts of the Snatchers sent them into a panic, but Draco Malfoy knew what needed to be done. He drew his wand, immediately pointing it at Harry's face, silently begging for forgiveness. Next, he spun toward Ron Weasley, stunning him quickly, until only Hermione was left._

" _I'm sorry, it's for the best." Draco whispered, kissing her temple softly. She stared up at him with tears in her eyes, slowly dripping down her cheeks._

" _You promised." She whispered, before she crumpled on her feet, only to be caught by the very hands that had cursed her._

"Draco, I do believe Mediwitch Kensi has addressed you more than once." Narcissa tapped the toe of her shoe lazily on the tile, used to his antics.

"It doesn't matter what she said. She didn't know what the hell she was talking about." Draco tore his eyes from the sleeping witch, only to scowl at the older woman.

"My, aren't we delightful this morn? It seems you, and my other patient, have much in common. She was less than impressed with Healer Greene." Kensi winked at Narcissa, ignoring Draco's rude retort. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to see to my patient."

"Why did you separate them?" Draco inquired, even while angrily pacing the length of the hospital room.

"It wasn't my decision. Healer Greene thought it best. Ms. Granger is awake, though it seems she is completely unaware she actually _is_ Ms. Granger." Kensi clucked her tongue, sadly shaking her head.

"Have the Aurors discovered the wizard to blame? Do the Healers have any idea what struck them?" Narcissa observed her son's reaction to the news with shrewd eyes.

She was more than aware something was afoot, though it seemed her son hadn't the slightest idea. She supposed it was for the best. If in fact it was later revealed a Dark Wizard had performed a bit of Dark Magic, at least he would be protected.

"The Aurors have come up empty, and since it wasn't Dark Magic, they're not particularly concerned. At least they've managed to deduce that much. The Healers are of the opinion the spell in question was a haphazard creation. It seems the effects are disorientation and a bit of memory loss."

Draco edged toward the door, his feet stilling upon receiving a scathing glare from his mother. He shook his head, indicating his innocence and she nodded curtly, returning her attention to the Mediwitch. She carefully watched every wand motion and incantation out of pure curiosity.

Hermione Granger frowned deeply while her limbs were manipulated. Her small stuttered breaths filled the uneasy silence, though she was unaware of their presence. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her lids, her heart rate alarmingly high. It seemed she was caught in memories of the war, which rented her heart.

"Malfoy! You promised! You promised!" Hermione sat up gasping, her hands covering her face. Her shoulders shook and gut-wrenching sobs escaped between her fingers, shocking not only the Mediwitch, but Narcissa Malfoy as well.

"That's impossible." Draco's raspy whisper caught his mother's attention, her head whipping toward him.

He backed away from the sobbing witch, slowly shaking his head in disbelief until his blond hair flopped across his forehead. He fumbled behind him for the door handle, desperate to escape the sobs. He muttered under his breath and fell through the open door, soundlessly shutting it.

Draco hurried down the corridor, away from the sobs, away from the confusion. He stepped into the lavatory, immediately splashing cool water on his flushed face. He stared at his reflection over the sink basin. His stomach lurched and he barely managed to reach the toilets before the bile was spewing forth from his lips. He stumbled from the stall toward the sinks, only to spy Harry Potter.

"Malfoy?" Draco groaned, quickly wiping the spittle from his lips.

He ignored the dark haired wizard in favour of rinsing his mouth. He yanked his wand from his pocket, easily utilising a Mouth Cleaning Charm. Satisfied the contents of his stomach were removed, he crossed his arms and waited for the other wizard to speak.

"I take it she's awake then. Ron had a similar reaction when he managed to see Hermione. Seems Hermione isn't exactly Hermione. I haven't a bloody clue what's going on here Malfoy, but I have a sneaking suspicion Zabini is involved, which implicates you, as you're well aware." Harry Potter sighed and scratched his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Potter. Zabini and I wound up completely pissed. It's not surprising, considering I've spent many a day in such a state since the announcement. He told me to leave everything to him. I can't even pretend to fathom what goes on in that bloke's head."

"You're never going to call me Harry, are you?"

"I'd rather eat a Nargle." Harry snorted with a small chuckle. Draco's reaction didn't surprise him much if at all. No matter how many years they'd conversed, Draco Malfoy remained adamant in his refusal to accept their friendship.

"Healer Greene has requested your presence. He thinks you might be able to shed some light on Hermione's current state."

"What the fuck did you say to him, Potter?" Draco snarled, shoving off the basin.

"I merely suggested you might be able to aid him, considering you and Hermione are friends."

"Friends? We're not fucking friends. Not anymore and you bloody well know it."

"Maybe, but I couldn't very well tell the Healer you're in love with her in front of Ron." Harry shrugged, shoving his wand in the back pocket of his Muggle jeans.

"Why does everyone keep _saying_ that?!" Draco Malfoy shoved Harry and stomped from the washroom like a petulant child. He waited impatiently for Harry to follow, knowing he would, and gestured down the corridor. "Lead the way oh Chosen One."

Harry shook his head, hiding a snicker and wandered down the corridor with Draco in tow. It didn't take but a minute to reach Hermione's room and Harry paused. He considered saying something supportive, but decided against it. It wasn't as if the wizard in question would do the same for him. With a small sigh, he pushed open the door, immediately ducking as a pillow flew at his head.

"Get away from me!" Astoria Greengrass desperately clutched a bed sheet to her chest, while wildly scrambling for something to toss at the sea of redheads attempting to calm her.

"Oi! You lot need to clear out. It's obvious you're not helping matters any. Molly, I know you only want to help, but you're not. It looks as though you're making matters worse. Give us a minute would you?" Molly Weasley huffed with indignation, but with a soothing whisper from Arthur, she flounced from the room with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

Fred and George made no attempt to move from their position in the corner. Each clutched a pillow to their chest, eyeing the angry witch. It was obvious they were amused as they consistently tossed their pillows back toward the witch, only to catch them when she hurled them with obscenities.

"Fred. George."

"What? She started it!" It never ceased to amuse Harry how in tune the Weasley twins were with each other. He often wondered if they'd ever considered the fact, Fred would be dead if it weren't for the actions of Draco Malfoy.

Astoria's head whipped toward Harry and Draco, the tension ebbing from her stiff shoulders. She dropped her last pillow onto the narrow bed and sat on the corner, expectantly. She wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting, but seeing the tall blond wizard made her feel better.

"Oh, you're here. Have you come to take me home? I mean, you know my affinity for red hair, but this is a little ridiculous. The angry woman is the worst. She keeps insisting I go with her to some place called the Burrow. It sounds as if animals would live there. I can't possibly accompany her." Astoria sighed heavily, twirling her wand between her fingers and frowning.

"Oi! Hermione, you love the Burrow. It's our home and as we've told you, we're the Weasleys and we're your family." Fred, being the more adventurous of the two, took a step toward her, only to dissolve into a vicious fit of the giggles when she jinxed him.

"I can't believe this." Draco whispered, swallowing hard. He backed into the furthest wall, sliding down the cream paint, slumping to the floor.

"Fred, George, leave her be. If you can't be quiet, I'll send you out. Where the hell is Ron?" Harry decided it was in his best interest to give the witch a wide berth and avoided her altogether.

"He kept shouting she wasn't Hermione, then he vomited down his jumper and Mum sent him to the loo."

"If you lot call me Hermione one more bloody time, I'm going to hex your bollocks until they're firmly wedged in your arse." Astoria stamped her bare foot and Harry quite believed her.

"Alright, if you aren't Hermione Granger, could you tell me your name so I can address you properly?" The witch considered Harry carefully, blatantly staring at the scar on his forehead.

"Of course, my name is…uhm, I mean to say…I…." Astoria's face paled, her hands fluttering in front of her face nervously. "Well shit. I can't believe it. I'm completely fucked. I'm going to have to live in a rabbit hole. Oh my gods, am I poor? Do I have parents? My head hurts." Astoria threw herself across the narrow bed and buried her face in a pillow with small sobs.

"I don't even know what to say to any of that. Fred, would you see to Malfoy? He seems completely out of sorts." Harry carefully lowered himself into the chair beside her bed and awkwardly patted her back.

"Why is he even here?" Harry glanced between the two wizards, once more wondering which was which to no avail.

"They used to be friends. Healer Greene thought perhaps seeing him would spark a memory considering we don't know how much she remembers."

"I vote for nothing. Does she even know she's a witch?" Fred poked Draco Malfoy with his wand until the blond wizard grumbled and drew his wand.

"Stop touching me." Astoria smacked Harry's hand away and quickly sat up. "I've got a wand you ginger bastard. I'm not afraid to use it either."

"Hermione is mean." George complained loudly, pointedly ignoring her reddening cheeks.

"I. Will. Kill. You." Astoria shoved Harry and he stumbled over his feet, landing soundly on the floor.

"Jeannie." Draco Malfoy finally managed to drag his weary body to his feet. "Tori always called you Jeannie. She said…"

"Hermione is ridiculously long and anything is better than Hermy or that dreadful pet name Mione. I remember that." Astoria nodded slowly, her dark hair bouncing as she padded across the floor. "You're very blond. I don't want to be here any longer. Where are my clothes? I wish to go home. Wait, do I have a home?" Astoria met the eyes of every wizard, frowning in distaste at Harry who hadn't moved an inch.

"Mione?" Ron Weasley stuck his head around the door, and cleared his throat noisily.

"Catch him up, yeah?" Astoria gestured at Harry, rolling her eyes and moved toward the twins.

She ignored the two wizards whispering furiously and studied the tall, identical red haired wizards. She quite enjoyed perusing their physique and the uncomfortable glances they shot each other. Now that she had calmed slightly, Astoria couldn't help but to wonder what it would be like to bed them both. She licked her lips, walking slowly around them, resisting the urge to tweak their bums.

"Jeannie?" Ron began again, shooting a nasty glare at Draco Malfoy, who ignored the bloke easily.

"You're Ron Weasley." Astoria blinked quickly, grasping George's forearm in order to keep her balance. "You support the Canons. You're impossible."

"She's not wrong." Draco quirked a smile in Harry's direction, while preparing to leave. There was a steady pounding behind his eyes, and observing Hermione Granger act nothing like herself, was putting a definite strain on him.

Draco supposed the Overrated Saviour, the twins, and the Weasel could suss everything out. He was no longer needed, nor did he wish to remain any longer. Fred slipped into the corridor behind him and quickly tapped the man's shoulder.

"Er listen. You should uh, have a chat with Zabini." Fred whispered in a conspiratorial sort of way.

"Motherfucker, what did you do?" Draco hissed, drawing the attention of a few passing Mediwitches who winked in his direction.

"First, that's absolutely disgusting. Why would anyone wish to do that with their mum? Second, I'm an innocent bystander. Third, when you happen upon Zabini, tell him Elliot is staying at the Burrow." Fred smiled and Draco knew such an action spelled nothing but trouble…for him.

"Please tell me you didn't have anything to do with this mess?" Draco groaned, rubbing his hand over his face as his head pounded, causing him agony.

"I solemnly swear I had nothing to do…oh come off. Who cares? This could be a bloody good time." Fred hurried back into the hospital room before Draco could reply.

He honestly considered leaving his mother to deal with Astoria Greengrass and Apparating to his home, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it. He was expected to dutifully remain at her side and play his part of the ever-attentive fiancé. It didn't distress him nearly as much as he believed it should, and he supposed it was due to seeing Hermione Granger.

He wandered down the corridor as slowly as humanly possible and contemplated the tiny witch. There was something about her that was different, but at the same time, she was still so familiar. Draco had always thought Hermione was absolutely stunning when angry, but not this time.

She was terrifying yes, but most witches were when their fury overcome them. She walked with a gentle sway to her hips he'd never noticed before, and Merlin did she roll her eyes. The simple fact she recognised him kept his hope alive, even as he walked through the door to Astoria's room.

"Healer Greene, I'm asking a legitimate question, just because you are unable to answer it does not make me disagreeable." Hermione Granger stood with her legs akimbo, her hands firmly wedged onto her hips and glowered at the exceedingly tall, brunette wizard.

"Ms. Greengrass…"

"Don't call me that."

"Astoria…" Healer Greene attempted to placate the disgruntled witch, but no matter what he said, she would not be appeased.

"It doesn't sound right either. I'm well aware you've said I'm suffering from some sort of memory loss, but you'd think I would recognise my own name, wouldn't you?" Hermione tossed her wavy dark hair over her shoulder, crossed her arms, and tapped her toes.

"Tori…" Draco sighed, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he moved to sit beside his mother.

"I-I know you…" Hermione felt a flutter in her chest she didn't quite understand as she sat upon her narrow bed. She toyed with the edge of her cream patient robes, glancing at the pale wizard through thick dark lashes. She sat ramrod straight and squared her shoulders. "Alright then, what exactly is the proposed course of action? Am I simply to remain here in the hopes of regaining my life? I can assure you that's out of the question."

"Actually, er uh Tori," Healer Greene braced himself for another onslaught before continuing, "I've spoken with more than a few wizards who are quite adept in these matters and they've suggested you return to your routine as soon as possible. You're in perfect health despite the circumstances, and there isn't a medical reason for you to remain." Silently he begged Merlin to remove the addled witches posthaste.

"My routine? I haven't the slightest idea what my routine entails. I suppose I could ask my parents. Do I have parents? Where are they?" Narcissa Malfoy slowly stood and placed her hand on Healer Greene's forearm.

Hermione twisted the platinum band, decorating the third finger of her left hand, nervously. Draco's eyes followed her motions and he scowled. He never had any intention of presenting the family ring to Astoria, but it seemed his mother had rectified the situation during his absence. He was fairly surprised to see it wasn't a ridiculously large diamond surrounded by gaudy emeralds. Instead, it was a simple band, an Asscher cut emerald in the center with two smaller diamonds on either side. It didn't suit Astoria in the least and he supposed it was appropriate considering he wasn't well suited for her either.

"It seems your parents have…" Narcissa cleared her throat lightly and closed her blue eyes, "the Healers performed more than a few spells when you and Ms. Granger arrived here at St. Mungos. While I can't say I understand their conclusions, your parents were less than pleased and have chosen to keep their distance until the errors have been corrected." Narcissa offered the dark haired witch a tight smile, which didn't reach her eyes.

"You've used more than an ample number of words and told me absolutely nothing. I'd say well done, but I have a sneaking suspicion you're not intentionally being vague. It's simply your nature." Draco snorted, more than a little amused at Astoria's sudden backbone where his mother was concerned.

"Oi, Tori. Healer Greene analyzed your blood and it seems the results were disturbing. Not to me of course, but your parents, Merlin they threw an absolute fit. I believe they were removed from the premises due to their threats. They weren't fond of the idea their daughter is a half-blood." Draco shrugged, deciding he'd had enough of the posturing.

"Half-blood, that doesn't sound right." Hermione subconsciously drew her bottom lip between her teeth and Draco clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

"I'm sure it's a simple error and nothing to worry yourself over. Draco will tend to you as long as necessary." Narcissa arched her eyebrow, daring her son to refute her words and even Healer Greene managed a small sigh of relief when she was greeted with silence.

"You're Draco Malfoy!" Hermione shot up from her bed, her dark eyes wide. "Wait, you…you hate me…I can't go with him. You can't expect me to…" Hermione stuttered, light pants filled with anxiety escaping her plump lips.

Her vision blurred suddenly and she was being lowered back to her bed, by none other than Healer Greene. He had to admit the witch was quite attractive, but the ring on her finger spoke volumes, even if she didn't yet understand the implications. It was a shame really, he wouldn't have minded getting to know her better, but he wasn't about to cross the Malfoys, no matter the witch in question.

"Tori, I've noticed you twisting the ring on your finger, what do you think it means?" Healer Greene resisted the urge to take her head, instead pointing toward the sparkling ring on her finger.

"I-I don't know. It really is quite lovely. It's the sort of ring I…" Hermione stopped, gulping and chancing a glance at the blond wizard carefully studying her. "No…"

"Healer Greene, I'd appreciate it if you could manage to remove yourself from my fiancée's side. It's highly inappropriate, not the least bit proper really. It would be a terrible thing if I were forced to speak to your superior." Draco couldn't pinpoint his reasonings for disliking the Healer. He simply knew he did and he never did like sharing his things.

Healer Greene glowered at the younger wizard, detesting his very existence. He stood slowly, brushing the creases from his lime green robes and looked down kindly upon Hermione. She avoided the heat in his eyes by studying Draco Malfoy. The cold, calculating gaze in his grey eyes unnerved her slightly, until he turned to her.

Hermione wrapped a strand of hair around her finger, curious, but not afraid. Neither of them noticed Healer Greene's hasty retreat, which suited Narcissa just fine. She was much more intrigued by her son's interactions with Astoria Greengrass. She'd never seen him so patient with her before and it piqued her interest.

Draco approached her slowly, waiting for her to roll her eyes or even stamp her feet, but Hermione remained still. When he was an arm's length from her, he held out his hand. Astoria never would have held his hand, she had an aversion to affection, but Hermione didn't have such qualms. She placed her clammy palm against his and he smiled.

"Come along then."


	7. Firsts

**AN: This author's note is completely unnecessary ha. I think this fic is finally taking shape.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Firsts

* * *

Astoria wandered the strange room of the Burrow with a crinkled nose. She had a difficult time concealing her derision for her surroundings, but she didn't wish to upset Molly. The woman was so warm and bright, Astoria couldn't fathom such happiness in such a place, but she did enjoy the ever-present love.

"Where is she?"  
"I don't know, did you check the garden? She always liked to read out there."  
"Have you seen her even touch a book? I didn't know she could survive without them."

Astoria sighed, ignoring the loud whispers, which did nothing to disguise their identities. She'd often come across the twins, and even Ron, whispering about her differences. There wasn't anything she could do about it of course, and it was really grating on her nerves.

She'd been presented with more books than she could read in a lifetime, if she was so inclined, but Astoria had never really been the studious sort. She knew it boggled their minds when her lip curled at the idea of spending the day in Ron's old room reading, but at least she was honest. Astoria couldn't fathom the idea of finding such things enjoyable. She'd much rather spend the day shopping and by the state of her wardrobe, it was obvious she was in dire need of new robes.

Astoria ached to fly into the skies, but somehow she knew even broaching the subject would cause another round of curious glances and confusion. She had always loved to fly and had done so quite well. When she attended Hogwarts, Astoria wished for nothing more than to join the Quidditch team, but she didn't remember such things any longer.

"Oi, Hermio…uh Jeannie, Harry and I are going to go down to the Quidditch pitch with the twins. Maybe you could uh, keep Mum company while she peels the potatoes for supper?" Ron shrugged helplessly at Harry, as the other wizard shook his head with a roll of his green eyes.

"You've got a pitch? That's fantastic. I would love to have a go." Astoria's dark eyes showed life for the first time in days, and even Ron didn't have the heart to inform her of her fear of heights.

He nodded slowly and suddenly his arms were filled with soft, curvy witch and he wasn't about to complain. Ron's arms came around her slowly, awkwardly even, but considering Astoria was holding him so tight, he relaxed soon enough. He inhaled slowly, her dark hair tickling his nose, her soft breasts crushed to his chest and Harry had enough sense to wander away.

Astoria closed her eyes, reveling in the scent of fresh cut grass, Molly's homemade soap and strangely enough, wet earth. She'd come to associate such smells with Ron and they brought her comfort. She sighed, holding Ron just a bit tighter, even when his large freckled hand dropped to her bum.

She didn't mind. Astoria couldn't imagine being the sort of witch who did mind when a hot red-haired wizard fondled her bum. Frankly, she was quite a bit randy, but it was soon, too soon to even consider a physical relationship, at least that's what she kept telling herself. Astoria felt a driving need to discover who she was, before falling headlong into becoming whatever Ron wished her to be. Reluctantly she pulled away from his embrace, carefully studying his blue eyes.

"Ron?" Astoria blinked nervously, slowly unwinding her arms from around his neck to loosely rest upon his shoulders. "I know it's frustrating for you and well for everyone that I can't remember a bit of my past. I wish I could, and I'm trying, really I am, but all the things you tell me I used to do, I don't enjoy. Would it be possible for us to simply move forward the way I am? Get to know me now, rather than to cling to what I was? There's no way to know my memories will ever come back and…"

"Actually, that's brilliant." Ron smiled and Astoria's nerves completely evaporated. "I love it. I haven't known how to act and whatnot, and it's been uncomfortable, but I think this could work."

Astoria smoothed the front of her sunshine yellow sundress, detesting the way the cap sleeves continuously worked their way up her arm. She desperately wanted clothes of her own, but the Weasleys were less than thrilled with the idea of her returning to her own home. It's not as if she knew where it was or anything, but she liked the idea of having her own space and often wondered where it was located and what it looked like.

"Do you think you could take me for a ride on your…broom?" Astoria's forefinger circled the button on his dismal striped shirt.

She was quite pleased to see his cheeks redden. It made her feel powerful and considering she didn't have much control over her life currently, the idea she could affect a wizard, brought a smile to her lips. Astoria stretched up on her toes, and kissed the corner of Ron's mouth. She didn't wait for a response or even a rejection before she was spinning on her heel and hurrying toward the pitch.

"Well," Ron sighed to himself, "she might not know who she is, but she can do that anytime she likes."

Ron whistled a happy little tune and wandered down to the pitch, completely forgetting his broom. Fred was quick to point out his error, avoiding George who stood near the edge, whispering quietly with Angelina. He pretended it didn't bother him, as he always did, while Ron retrieved his wand, and Harry spoke with Astoria.

It was difficult for him not to out the poor girl, but he promised Blaise a bit longer. From what he witnessed earlier, it seemed Astoria was quite fond of his inept brother, which worked perfectly really. However, Fred had to admit he was insanely curious as to how Hermione was faring surrounded by Malfoys.

* * *

"What happened to the other witch?" Hermione quietly questioned Narcissa Malfoy while struggling into her dress robes.

She couldn't imagine dressing in such a way daily, and supposed it had been a special occasion. Her robes, while lovely were quite bulky and stiff. While she sensed it was better to keep her opinions to herself, the robes were quite snug across her bust and Hermione had difficulty drawing a full breath.

"She was sent on her way. If you hadn't been resolutely stubborn, we could have been on our way ages ago. Have you always been this stubborn? My, what am I saying, it isn't as if you would have any idea, now would you?" Narcissa sniffed and hurriedly pulled a comb through the disgruntled witch's hair.

"I wanted to be sure. I thought it was best to speak to the Head Healer in order to discern his course of action considering the significant memory loss. I don't wish to remain this way forever." Hermione pulled on the high neck of her robes, feeling slightly suffocated in the small washroom with Narcissa Malfoy.

There was something about the older blonde witch she found off-putting. The woman had been perfectly cordial, if slightly short tempered, but it was her refusal to speak of the situation, which irked Hermione the most. She wanted answers, or at least viable suggestions and she received nothing other than a few stammers from the Healers.

"Is it really so terrible? You've been given a rare opportunity to build your relationships anew and despite your family's unwillingness to cooperate, I'm sure there are many witches and wizards who would envy your position." Narcissa clenched her jaw, wishing nothing more than to be in the midst of her garden, rather than confined to St. Mungo's with a disagreeable witch.

"Yes, Healer Greene was informing me of the War. I thought it was absolutely dreadful. I mean, can you imagine? Some noseless maniac was running about, declaring himself some sort of god I suppose, and wished to eradicate those he considered lesser? Healer Greene said the wizard thought those who weren't Pureblood deserved to be exterminated, especially the ones with less Magical Blood than most. I can't recall what he called them exactly but…" Hermione prattled on, completely unaware of the white knuckled fists and twitching lips, of the Malfoy Matriarch.

"Mudbloods." Narcissa hissed, her fingers itching for her wand.

"Yes! That's what it was. Apparently, they're witches or wizards with non-Magical parents. I don't understand what the fuss was all about really. What does it matter where one gets their ability as long as they have it?" Hermione turned, her large caramel eyes studying the taller witch carefully.

"It's no wonder you're _friends_ with that Hermione Granger. Merlin, you even sound…a…like…" Narcissa's clear blue eyes widened considerably, and she rushed from the hospital room without another word.

Hermione shrugged to herself and sat on the edge of her narrow hospital bed. She smoothed the sky blue folds of her robes and waited patiently for someone to return. She was aware the younger Malfoy had been avoiding her, though she didn't understand why. She supposed it had to do with their Arranged Marriage and her stomach twisted painfully at the idea.

Hermione might have listened dutifully when Narcissa Malfoy carefully explained the Betrothal Contract, but that didn't mean she liked it. In fact, she detested the idea, but not because she detested Draco Malfoy. No, it wasn't that simple. She felt as if she knew him, and not in the carnal way Narcissa had insinuated. It was more than that, and it bothered her she couldn't remember, and that he refused to speak with her at length.

Sure, he had held her hand for a few moments and it felt right as much as it felt wrong. Hermione wasn't able to articulate her feelings on the matter, which simply added to her frustration. She leapt from the narrow bed and plucked her temporary wand from the nightstand. She wracked her stubborn mind for a Transfiguration Spell and gnawed her bottom lip until it stung.

"Perhaps you should start with something simple." Hermione jumped, spinning toward the voice and blinked.

The emotional side of Hermione Granger was thoroughly restrained by the logical side. Her emotional bit wished nothing more than to rush into the wizard's arms and hold him tight. She was curious as to why such an emotion was evoked by the brunette wizard and then she spotted his scar.

" _Holy cricket, you're Harry Potter!"_ Hermione blinked rapidly, desperately clutching to the quickly fading memory until there was nothing, nothing at all.

"I'm Harry Potter and you are?" She studied his emerald green eyes curiously, sensing the slightest trace of déjà vu.

"They tell me I'm Tori." Harry Potter nodded slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest and casually leaned against the wall furthest from her.

"Pleasure."

"You've got dirt on your nose." Hermione's lips barely moved and Harry was sure he had misheard her, even as her fingertip stroked the side of her nose.

Harry's short gasp was ignored by the concentrating witch, giving him ample opportunity to study her. He noticed how uncomfortable she seemed in her robes and the way she stared at the pristine tiles. He watched her twist a few strands of dark hair around her finger and tap the corner of her lip with her forefinger.

He'd spent enough time around Hermione Granger to easily recognise her mannerisms, but he was having difficulty believing what he saw. Though, he had to admit, the situation was suspicious. Considering his cryptic conversation with Fred Weasley and the way Blaise Zabini was carefully avoiding him, it wasn't particularly difficult to piece together the puzzle.

"Healer Greene asked me to stop by and assess your magical ability. He says you've been overly concerned with the Healer's lack of progress."

"Of course I'm concerned Harry! They've haven't told me anything really. They're absolutely clueless and their best bit of advice is to jump back into my routine. As if that's the least bit helpful? I haven't the slightest idea if I even have a routine, but that doesn't matter at all. No, the great Healers have decreed it's for the best. You'd think they could provide me with a few books on the subject, but it seems they haven't any! How on earth can they run a proper hospital without a staff up to the task?" Hermione tossed her hands in the air, exasperated with the entire situation.

Harry scrubbed his forehead, almost wishing for a sudden throbbing pain to permeate his scar in order to aid his retreat. Of course, such things didn't happen any longer, yet it didn't keep him from silently wishing. His eyes narrowed while he made a mental note to pay Fred Weasley an unannounced visit. Harry had a sneaking suspicion Blaise Zabini would be wandering about as well.

"Wingardium Leviosar." Harry muttered, just loud enough for the brunette witch to hear him as he swished and flicked his wand.

"It's LeviOsa, not LevioSAR!" Hermione rolled her eyes, slightly shaking her head and plucked Harry's wand from his hands, flicking it toward the pillow on her narrow bed.

Her heart fluttered in happiness, a wide smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. The white pillow hovered a few feet over the narrow bed and Hermione couldn't help but to raise her wand, watching it slowly flutter toward the ceiling. She released the spell and turned to Harry Potter, but he was gone.

She frowned and dropped his wand on her bed. Hermione remembered Healer Greene refusing to allow her to use his wand, declaring it was an intimate act. It seemed Harry Potter had no such qualms, which she found curious. She was curious about most things actually, and had quickly tired of her surroundings. Hermione was anxious to leave St. Mungo's, despite her previous reservations.

Healer Matthew Greene stifled a moan as he quietly entered Astoria Greengrass' hospital room. He had long since stopped denying his unexplainable attraction to the girl. It no longer mattered she was much younger than he. In fact, considering Draco Malfoy had failed to make even the barest hint of an appearance since the young witch decided to stay in St. Mungo's, he didn't feel guilty perusing her.

He'd gone out of his way to stop in and speak with Astoria, and she never ceased to amaze him. It seemed, despite her lack of memory concerning her personal life, she was filled with amazing little tidbits of information. Today, he fervently hoped the Malfoys didn't plan a visit.

Healer Greene shuffled forward quietly, carefully balancing a small package behind his back. His small eyes dropped to her delectable derrière, covered in blue chiffon. He stepped behind her, allowing his hand to rise of its own accord and gently stroked the back of her neck.

Hermione shrieked, immediately grabbing Harry Potter's wand. Her instincts took over and a moment later, a spell was flying from her lips. Healer Greene crashed into the solid wall, cracking his skull against the brick. Hermione dropped the wand and rushed from the room. Healer Greene's gift package lay crushed beneath his arse, the glass from the perfume bottle imbedded in his skin.

Her shoes delayed her departure, as their stiletto heel was not purposely made for running. Hermione kicked off the offending articles, without breaking her stride. Silently, she cursed Narcissa Malfoy for absconding with her wand, detesting the way the temporary rough wood had felt in her palm. Of course, such things didn't matter when one was running through the corridors of St. Mungo's in bare feet.

Hermione ignored the alarmed shouts of Mediwitches and Healers alike, in her desperation for freedom. She turned the corner with her head down, dark hair flowing out behind her. She tripped on the hem of her sky blue robes and stumbled headlong into a small group of wizards. Hermione struggled to her feet and grasped her skirts in her fists before continuing on her way.

"Was that Astoria Greengrass?"  
"I do believe you're correct."  
"Why on earth is she rushing about like a common hooligan?"  
"To be fair, the poor girl looked absolutely terrified."

Hermione wrenched open the door of the closest lavatory and quickly locked it behind her. Her skin was flushed and covered in a light sheen of sweat, but what concerned her was the blatant tremble in her hands. She studied her fingertips, willing them to still, but they balked against her request. Her knees joined the fray, and Hermione swore she could hear her bones knocking together.

Angrily, she tore off her robes, allowing them to pool on the floor. She drew a deep, yet shaky breath and closed her eyes. Hermione back slowly away from the locked door, allowing her bare back to hit the cool tiles. She slid to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She didn't cry, it seemed almost out of character for her to do such a thing, but she did groan. Every time she closed her eyes, she was forced into another hint of an incomplete memory. This time was no different, except she could feel the fear in the air. She wasn't simply remembering a moment of her past, she was reliving it.

" _Delicious girl…what a treat …I do enjoy the softness of the skin…" Meaty hands cupped her breasts and she was hard pressed to keep from vomiting._

" _That's quite enough Greyback, I shan't have you marring my gifts."_

" _Never were a bit of fun, Malfoy. I suppose the Dark Lord will enjoy punishing you. I'm going to ask for your skirt there. I want to taste her." The hulking form growled menacingly, but the pale blond wizard never flinched._

 _Hermione Granger remained still and quiet, carefully listening to the exchange. Her first inclination was to be furiously angry, but considering their surroundings, she was thankful he had intervened. She had assumed they were still in the forest, but no, they were mere metres from the iron gates of Malfoy Manor._

 _She observed the young Malfoy stiffen and resisted the urge to follow his gaze. He stepped out of her line of sight and hurried down the path leading to the impressive front door. She swallowed hard as the heavy hand stroked the bare skin of her shoulder, his thumb paying homage to the back of her neck, while he shoved her along._

 _Narcissa Malfoy embraced her son hard, filled with numerous questions she knew would have to wait. She glanced over his shoulder toward the ragtag group and hesitated._

" _Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."_

" _Wait." Antonin Dolohov stepped out of the Manor with a snarl on his thin lips. "All except…except for the Mudblood."_

 _Greyback grunted with pleasure, digging his fingers into her hip, his hot breath on her throat. Hermione knew his intentions were less than honourable and she couldn't help the shiver of revulsion along her spine. She stumbled up the steps before she was unceremoniously tossed onto a marble floor._

 _She didn't have a chance to take in her surroundings as her companions were shouting at their captors, but Hermione Granger was simply trying to keep herself together. She'd never enjoyed feeling weak, despite her powerlessness._

" _Reckon I can have a bit of the girl when you're through with her?" Greyback crooned, licking his lips._

" _If she survives." Hermione closed her eyes, her fingernails digging into her palms._

 _Antonin Dolohov might have detested her blood, but he had to admit her body was titillating. It didn't miss his careful attention the way the young Malfoy had barely glanced away from her. It seemed he wasn't the only one with nefarious intentions._

" _Strip her down, Malfoy. I'd like to see our wares." Dolohov growled, drawing his wand when Draco hesitated._

" _Surely that's not necessary." Narcissa sensed her son's anguish, quickly stepping forward with a hand on his wrist._

" _So sweet of your mummy to interfere. Mudblood, go on then, strip it off."_

" _I won't." Hermione spat, her fingernails drawing blood as she drew her legs under her tattered robes._

" _Crucio."_

Hermione Granger clutched her head and screamed. She screamed the scream of the tortured, the sort that made ones blood run cold. She screamed until her voice broke and when sound was no longer capable of passing her lips, her mouth remained open in silent scream, until darkness finally descended.

"I don't give Salazar's left bollock what you think happened. Fact of the matter is, you frightened her and this is what I've come back to. You're completely unprofessional, not to mention inept and I shan't have you tending her any longer. Mother, will you see the appropriate Healers so we can take her home?" Draco Malfoy hefted the slight sleeping witch in his arms and continued down the long corridor.

Strange as it was, he was grateful to Mediwitch Kenzi for contacting him the moment Astoria was missing from her room. He'd immediately hurried to St. Mungo's and began the search. Draco was surprised to learn his mother had left the witch to her own devices and sought to discover the cause.

When he'd discovered her on the cold floor of the lavatory, he was furious. It was blatantly obvious she had been distraught, as evidenced by the thin lines of blood decorating her forearms. Draco had quickly Transfigured her ridiculous robes into a simple blue dress with cap sleeves and a fitted bodice.

She whimpered when he slipped it over her head, but it was a necessary evil. He couldn't allow her to be seen in such a state. Draco swore he could hear his mother's voice in his head, blathering on about impugning the Malfoy honour. It would have been easier to use magic, but he'd never mastered the ability to perform the necessary Charm.

He knew his mother disapproved of Astoria's Transfigured dress, but he couldn't explain the reason as to why he did such a thing. The moment Draco had spotted the voluminous robes on the ground, he knew they didn't suit her. As much as Narcissa Malfoy might have wished it to be so, Astoria Greengrass was not her daughter and neither was she a younger version of herself.

"I won't." Hermione mumbled, her tiny hands tightening into fists. She muttered the same phrase over and over in a hoarse whisper while Draco scowled.

"Mr. Malfoy, if I may…" Healer Greene stepped forward with an air of arrogance Draco detested.

"If you so much as look at her, I'll hex you until you're fit for the Janus Thickey Ward." Draco's menacing glare was enough to set the older, dark haired wizard, back.

"There's no need for such hostility. I assure you, we're all doing our best to see to the needs of Tori…"

"Ms. Greengrass. That's the proper way to refer to a patient, now isn't it? You and I both know you're not as interested in her healing as you are her knickers. Need I remind you, she's my fiancée?" Draco shoved passed the irritating Healer and entered the stark white room.

Healer Greene ignored the curious glances of passing patients and MediWitches and followed Draco Malfoy. He moved to close the door, only to find it firmly grasped by MediWitch Kenzi and none other than Healer Strout. His palms began to sweat and he quickly moved out of their way.

Draco's first inclination was to glower at the matronly witch, but she smiled so kindly at the distressed Astoria, he hadn't the heart. He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, prepared to lower his fiancée to the bed, but her death grip on his arms made it downright impossible. He didn't think it would aid her in the least if he was to wrench himself from her grip and therefore he resisted the urge.

"Mr. Malfoy, I've been called upon due to your displeasure with Healer Greene. I'm Healer Miriam Strout. Formerly I worked on the Janus Thickey Ward and due to my experiences, the consensus was I'm the best to tend to your needs as well as that of your lovely fiancée." Miriam smiled softly and Draco relaxed in her presence.

She reminded him of what he always believed a mother should be, or even a grandmother. She exuded kindness and warmth, which considering the current circumstances, were quite welcome. Miriam patted Draco's shoulder in a comforting sort of manner before scrutinizing the whimpering witch.

"Perhaps _I_ can be of assistance Miriam…" Healer Greene stepped forward and from the glint in his eye, Draco knew he was concentrating on Astoria's cleavage rather than the furrow of her brow.

"Matthew Greene you take another step toward my patient and I'll have you demoted to scrubbing the floors. I believe you've done enough damage. You were personally instructed not to touch Ms. Greengrass under any circumstances. Judging from her current state, it wouldn't be incredibly far-fetched to assume you've disobeyed a direct order from your superior, now would it?" Miriam's voice remained low and steady, yet her displeasure was obvious.

It was in that moment, Draco Malfoy decided he quite liked her. He adjusted the slight brunette witch in his arms, the hard glint in his eyes softening. Hermione loosened her grip and snuggled into his side, which he found curious. Astoria had never been affectionate, not even in slumber and yet here she was, desperately clutching him.

"Healer Strout, I don't know what _he's_ said to you, but I assure you…"

"Matthew, Mr. Malfoy is not the issue. Have you forgotten my skill in Legilimency? Pity you were never trained in Occlumency, perhaps then you would have been better prepared to shield your unsavory thoughts. Kenzi dear, would you please escort Healer Greene to the fifth floor. I do believe he could do with a spot of tea." Matthew Greene sputtered, but it was no use, he was forced from the room by wand point before he could argue the matter.

"Thank you." Draco whispered, finally managing to lower Hermione to the narrow bed.

"I didn't do it for you, Mr. Malfoy. His presence was exacerbating a difficult situation. It seems young Ms. Greengrass is trapped in the midst of a particularly disturbing memory. I expect she won't remember it when she wakes. I'd like to have a moment with her, if you don't mind." Miriam Strout fussed with the bun at the base of her neck, patting her graying brown hair.

Draco nodded curtly. While he was curious, he also needed a moment to clear his thoughts. He strode from the room with purpose, secretly hoping he'd stumble upon Healer Greene. Instead, he wandered near a disheveled Harry Potter. Draco quickly spun on his heel and ducked into the lavatory in order to avoid the man.

He stepped into one of the three stalls and stood on the edge of the toilet, knowing he had terrible luck when it came to avoiding the green-eyed wizard. As expected the door swung open, yet it was the clip of heeled shoes, which drew his attention. The shoes stepped into the stall beside his and moments later another person entered the washroom.

"You were supposed to wait!" The giggled whisper was decidedly feminine and Draco rolled his eyes, cursing his luck.

"Oi. You can't expect me to wait when you're flashing me your knickers." The loud thump against the stall wall made Draco's stomach roll with revulsion.

Harry Potter on the other hand, was busying lifting the skirts of a particularly enamoring witch. He groaned upon finally feeling soft thighs beneath his palms. Feverishly, he tore her scrap of knickers down her lithe thighs. His impatience caused him to tear her blouse open, buttons clattering across the cold floor.

"Don't rip my bra, Harry." The pink haired witch panted, struggling with his belt loops.

"Stop wearing them then…Nymphadora." Draco Malfoy covered his mouth with both hands, gagging at the thought of his cousin shagging Harry bloody Potter.

"Ohhh Harry." Tonks gasped, spreading her legs while his lips attacked her throat.

Harry worked his way down and quickly covered a dusky peak with his lips, sucking hard. He was completely entranced with her breasts. Even when they were on assignment, Harry never could resist copping a feel, to Tonks chagrin. Of course, at this moment, she definitely wasn't complaining. If one happened upon Draco Malfoy, he could assure you the low keening of his cousin was enough to make one wish they were deaf, until the grunts began.

"Right there, right there, yes, Harry, yes." Tonks whimpered, droplets of sweat dripped down the back of her neck and she closed her eyes.

"You're bossy." Harry mumbled against her breast, deftly working his fingers between her thighs.

Tonks made a show of pursing her lips together, her eyes almost rolling back in her head, as Harry slowly thrust his fingers inside her. She had to admit the wizard was talented and her body definitely didn't have any complaints. He strummed her like a fine tuned violin and within moments, she was exploding in his hand.

"Sit on the loo." Tonks pleaded, shoving Harry's slacks to the floor with a desperate sort of whine.

He glared at her over the top of his round spectacles, yet did as she asked. He yanked her toward him, until she was straddling his thighs. It was an easy task to tuck her skirts into the waistband and drag her down onto his cock.

"You're so fucking hot, you dirty girl." Harry gripped Nymphadora's hips, urging her to go faster while he thrust upwards.

Nymphadora Tonks threw her head back, her well toned body convulsing. She practically purred as Harry's turgid member scraped against her insides, slick with arousal. Her brown eyes fluttered and Harry groaned, his thrusts growing erratic and Tonks knew he was close. Her thighs trembled and she opened her eyes, always enjoying the scant moments before everything came crashing down and stared into the revolted eyes of her cousin.

"Disgusting Potter. Merlin knows the sorts of diseases you've picked up from shagging in the loo…and with my cousin no less. Put your pathetic cock away before I feel the need to vomit on your scar."


	8. Suspicions

**AN: My literary muse has taken a vacation. I haven't the slightest idea how to entice it to return. However, I have not given up on this story. Swear it.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Suspicions

* * *

Astoria Greengrass laughed gaily while swooping through trees, regardless of the worried shouts beneath her. She edged the broom higher, finally feeling a sense of herself. She knew Ron and his brothers were probably furious with her, but it was worth it. She loved the wind in her hair and the sense of freedom that encompassed having the hard wood of a broom between her legs.

Astoria wasn't sure she even knew how to ride, but the moment she snatched Ron's broom from the shed, she felt alive. George had shouted into the house, and immediately a flurry of red haired wizards had rushed into the garden, but Astoria was already gone. She hopped onto the Clean Sweep, and laughed.

She didn't know the last time she had laughed, truly laughed, but it felt absolutely glorious and Astoria knew, it didn't matter who she had once been. She never wanted her feet to touch the ground again. Ron had informed her time and time again about her fear of heights, but she didn't believe him. She imagined he was simply trying to protect her, but it drove her mad.

Everything Astoria wished to experience, was marred by one Weasley or another, telling her it wasn't one of her favourite pastimes. The last thing Astoria wanted to do was read a bloody book and working at the Ministry made her lips curl. She wanted to fly. She wanted to shop for baby blue robes instead of being reduced to wearing some horrible tweed pencil skirts and cream blouses with ruffles.

Ron might have said he was more than willing to attempt and accept her as she is, but Astoria knew he was having more than a little trouble. He was secretly yearning for a bushy haired know-it-all and she wasn't that witch. Astoria couldn't imagine ever being that witch and she had no desire to fill an empty space.

Her feet hit the ground with a light crunch as she scattered the autumn leaves and she sighed. Astoria braced herself for the onslaught of reprimands, but instead, she was grabbed up into strong arms and spun in circles until she was dizzy. Astoria blinked a few times, staring up at the wide blue eyes and smiled.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron shouted. "I wonder if you could always fly. Wasn't that brilliant, Fred?"

Ron tossed his arm over Astoria's shoulders and quickly kissed her cheek. He was surprised to see she didn't blush at the action, though she did seem uncomfortable with the physical contact. He'd quickly learned the affectionate Hermione he'd known his entire life was gone.

She bristled when it came to spontaneous hugs, she balked at hand holding, and she was downright skittish when Molly spread her arms wide. It didn't bother him though. He was grateful she accepted his friendly pecks, but sometimes he caught her staring at him in a way that was downright indecent. Not that he minded, no, Ron didn't mind in the least.

"Who knew Hermione Granger was _such_ a talented flyer." Fred interjected with a careful gaze.

Astoria was always a bit uncomfortable around Fred. She felt as though he had a secret and was most unwilling to share it. She was certain the secret involved her and it didn't sit well. She stared into his brown eyes, willing him to get her the slightest hint of his mood, but Fred's face was a blank slate.

Ron chuckled, quite happy with this new discovery, removing his arm for her ease. He gestured toward the Burrow with eager eyes. Astoria knew she was in for yet another 'thrilling' cooking lesson from Molly, and she didn't know if her nerves could take it.

"Mum is baking some bread today and she remembered you once asked her to teach you. Of course, if you'd rather do something else…" Normally, Astoria would quietly acquiesce, but today was not one of those days.

"Actually, I'd rather go to the shops. I can't wear these ridiculous clothes any longer." She glanced down at the pinstriped brown tweed skirt and the short sleeve cream ruffled blouse with disdain.

"Are you sure you're Hermione?" Fred raised thin red eyebrows in her direction, his lips pressed together tightly. "Rides brooms, hates books and now she wishes to shop." He clucked his tongue and watched his brother's ears redden.

"Fred! I've about had it with you. She's fantastic. She lets me talk about Quidditch as much as I like and she argues with me about it! She's never telling me to clean up after myself or to tuck in my shirt. She doesn't tell me I'm being ridiculous or that I need to grow up. She's bloody perfect, you leave her alone!" Ron grabbed Astoria's hand, ignoring her shock and practically ran up the hill toward the Apparition point.

Astoria stopped suddenly, near the tree that marked the edge of the wards and shoved Ron into the bark. Her dark eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed and Ron thought she looked so bloody beautiful, he wanted to kiss her. He didn't think about the ramifications or her reactions, instead he pressed his lips to hers with his hands on her waist.

She wasn't expecting his kiss at all. Her intention had been to thank him for defending her, but her words were lost. Astoria moaned lightly, opening her mouth against Ron's amateur intrusion, but she didn't mind. Her fingers gripped his red hair tightly and she molded her body against his, despite the obvious bulge in his slacks.

Astoria swore there was a sea of butterflies in her stomach rolling about and a nest of bees in her chest as her heart pounded furious. She stopped trying to understand everything, closed her eyes, and went with her instincts. She sunk her teeth into Ron's bottom lip and fisted his shirt.

Ron maneuvered them in order to keep the prying eyes of his mother or even his brother from interrupting the moment. He risked her ire and slowly slid his clammy palms from Astoria's waist to the gentle curve of her bum. Astoria's whimper encouraged him and soon he was kneading the supple flesh.

Ron jerked away from her suddenly. He'd never known Hermione to be so forward and if he recalled correctly, she'd often said her interest in a physical relationship was almost nonexistent. It seemed Hermione's memory episodes were working to his advantage, but he was not prepared for the small hand grasping the bulge in his slacks.

Astoria frowned slightly, but instead of voicing her displeasure, she unbuckled his belt. Ron gasped, pushing away from the tree, but it didn't stop her. Instead, Astoria spun them slowly, until her back was wedged against the back. She took one of Ron's hands and placed it on her breast.

He wanted to object, at least he pretended he did. He had longed for this day and while it wasn't exactly what he'd imagined, Ron wasn't against going with it. He hissed when Astoria unzipped his slacks and shoved her hand against his erection. Part of him couldn't help but to wonder where she'd learned the skills while she stroked him, but the other part shouted 'books, shut up and enjoy it' and Ron was more apt to listen.

"Take me to the pitch." Astoria begged, catching Ron's earlobe between her teeth.

"Y-you want to f-fly? Ri-right now?" Ron gasped as her thumb swept across the bulbous head in his trousers, awkwardly massaging her breast.

"No. I want you to fuck me, right in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch." Astoria ripped open Ron's shirt and raked her fingernails down his chest, smiling softly as Ron objected to the release of his raging arousal.

"What? You always said…you wanted to wait. You wanted our first time to be special and…" Ron gulped noisily, wrenching his hand from her breast.

"Wait for what? That's ridiculous. Was I really such a prude? How awful. Is that a no then? I don't wish to press, but if you're not planning on shagging me then I must attend my own needs. I'm sure you understand."

Ron Weasley's mouth dropped open as he was stunned to silence. He wasn't sure what to make of her really. She looked bloody gorgeous with her dark hair mussed, her lips swollen, and her eyes bright. He'd always been interested in a good shag, but Lavender Brown's clinginess had cured him of seeking such liberties from Hermione, on the off chance all witches truly were the same.

He supposed he liked her well enough, loved her as only a best friend could, but before this entire debacle, he couldn't have said he was in love with her. Ron knew his mother expected him to make a go of it with Hermione and he tried. He'd also been forgetful, inconsiderate, and possessive, which didn't bode well when dealing with Hermione Granger. Now it seemed, everything was different.

"Are you sure you're my Hermione?" Ron whispered while reaching a hand forward to stroke her hair.

It was different than he remembered, but when he'd mentioned it to his mother, Molly had been quick to brush aside his concerns. It was darker than he remembered, and silkier too, but Merlin did he love to run his fingers through it, when she let him. Ron considered her carefully and noted her bum was bigger than he recalled but her breasts were smaller. He knew he couldn't say such things to his mum, but he wasn't against mentioning them to Fred or even George, if they'd have a listen.

"Does it matter? I mean, I can't change who I am. I don't know how and I wouldn't know where to start quite honestly. I like you, you like me, we're obviously attracted to each other…it doesn't have to mean anything more than that, if you like." Astoria stroked Ron's bare arm, absolutely refusing to beg any further.

She was absolutely positive another Weasley would give her a go if this one refused. She wasn't completely in love with the idea, but a girl has needs just the same as a bloke. Astoria had caught Charlie's eye more than once and while he was constantly droning on about dragons, he was quite nice looking.

"Bugger it." Ron tossed Astoria over his shoulder and ran down the hill, carefully avoiding the Burrow, amid a sea of feminine giggles.

* * *

"Wotcher, cousin!"  
"Please do not speak to me while you're sitting on Potter's cock."  
"Malfoy! Get out!"

Draco snorted and hopped off the toilet. He supposed it would have been better manners to vacate the lavatory, but he'd rather enjoyed ruining their shag, even if he was forced to see more of his cousin than necessary. He washed his hands in the basin, drying them quickly on a small towel. He tapped his foot impatiently, hoping Potter and his cousin weren't finishing their impromptu shag.

"Why are you here?" Harry Potter emerged from the stall with his ridiculous hair askew and his shirt rumpled.

"Why are you shagging my cousin in the loo?" Draco easily countered, ignoring the glare from the shorter wizard.

"How's Astoria then?" Tonks eased between the two wizards with a confident air, despite her reservations.

She didn't have a strained relationship with her extended family any longer, but at the same time, Nymphadora Tonks wasn't remotely ready to accept the judgement which would encompass being in any sort of relationship with Harry Potter. Tonks imagined her mother smiling tightly while secretly disapproving. She could easily see Narcissa's condescending glare and the numerous questions that would follow.

"I don't know. It's rather confusing actually. She keeps saying things, strange things, things she couldn't possibly know. There's a new Healer in with her now." Draco ran a few fingers through his hair before crossing his arms.

"Hermione is as well. It's troublesome if you stop and think of it. I mean what does one do when you need Hermione and she's not herself?" Harry washed his hands in the sink basin, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

"You give her a load of books and watch the issue suss itself out." Draco offered a one-shouldered shrug, staring blankly ahead.

"Yeah, you'd think that would work, but it seems Hermione Granger, witch extraordinaire, absolutely detests books now. She hurled them at Ron's head. Sorry I missed that, really." Harry smiled slightly, remembered the goose egg present on Ron's forehead when he'd barreled to Grimmauld Place in a fit of rage.

"Perhaps it's a remnant of the spell. On the other hand, maybe, you lot are complete idiots and have identified the incorrect witches. Did you think of that?" Tonks wet her fingertips and toyed with the spiky ends of her hair, completely nonplussed to be in the men's lavatory.

"When the Malfoy Family Ring is firmly wedged on a witch's finger you sort of assume she's your intended!" The pale wizard shouted, unaware he had stepped toward his cousin.

His cheeks flushed and his fingers trembled, neither of which was missed by his astute cousin. She knew he had residual feelings for Hermione Granger, but being as she had been consumed by grief, she'd never imagined their depth. Tonks also knew her aunt suspected something as well and wouldn't put it passed the Slytherin to manipulate a situation for the sake of her son.

"Do you think your mum…"

"No." Draco quickly interjected as his own thoughts had strayed along the same process. "She didn't know where I kept it. No one knew really, well except…fuck." His fist slammed into the glass above the basin, spider web cracks etched into the surface, slivers embedded in his skin.

"Zabini." Harry commented flatly, his green eyes narrowed in silent contemplation.

"I saw him in Diagon Alley that day. He looked so fucking happy and then he caught sight of us and quickly spun in the other direction. Moments before the Darkness Powder hit, I saw him with that Weasley." Draco flexed his fingers, wincing as his knuckles cracked and bled.

"That Weasley, ever so helpful Malfoy." Harry huffed, tossing his arms in the air with a slight shake of his head.

"Don't be so obtuse, Potter. The Weasel was arguing with Astoria, and the one-eared bastard is never far from his twin's ex-girlfriend. Someone really must tell me how that came about…"

"Fred. Zabini and Fred, that's definitely odd." Harry rubbed his scar, and Draco narrowed his clear grey eyes wishing he could punch the bloke.

"How is she?" Draco suddenly asked, hating himself even as the question escaped his lips.

He'd valiantly tried not to think of her, but it was impossible. He couldn't banish the thoughts of her. He was trapped by visions of caramel brown eyes and golden lashes blinking up at him. Her scent constantly swirled around him and it was difficult for him to catch his breath.

It didn't matter he hadn't been able to have a proper conversation with her in years. Draco knew she was always there. She was always about. She was always glancing in his direction when they happened to be present at the same events. She was always just a hairs breadth away from him, until now. Quite frankly, it was the now that was slowly killing him.

"Different." Tonks placed a calming hand on Harry's forearm as it seemed the younger wizard was more than ready to lash out once more. "I haven't spent much time with her or anything, but I have had tea with Molly. Molly was more than willing to share her laments over tea and crumpets, though it seems Ron doesn't mind the changes."

Tonks refrained from commenting on the obvious tightening of Draco's jaw, more for his sake than for hers. She was well versed when it came to pain and her cousin was suffering far more than he let on. The tiny crinkles near his eyes were a tell tale sign of his stresses, not to mention his violent tendencies.

"D'ya want to see her?" Tonks squeezed Harry's forearm so hard, she was fairly certain he hadn't a bit of feeling left in it, but it didn't bother her in the least.

"No. I can't." The regret was so obvious in his voice even Harry was stricken with the pang of it. "I want to, of course I want to, but the Bindings won't allow such a thing."

"The Bindings? I don't believe I've heard mention of those." Harry grit his teeth, still perturbed his afternoon shag was interrupted.

"You wouldn't, why would you? Your mum married a Muggle-born wizard. If her marriage had been arranged by our lovely grandparents, you'd understand. It's not as if pureblood families go on about it. It's to ensure we remain true. I'm bound to her, just as she is bound to me. If I wish to call upon a witch, and she is not betrothed, then the magicks determine Astoria must accompany me, as well as a bloody chaperone to ensure nothing tawdry occurs over a bloody cup of tea." Draco raised his bloodied fist to strike the glass again, but Tonks quickly interceded.

She caught his arm, shaking her head sadly. She healed the small cuts quickly and easily, thankful she'd remembered the incantations. Tonks held his hand in hers, smoothing the soft skin between her palms, willing him to look at her.

"I'm going to have a look about for Zabini. It was my intention before I was uhm…waylaid." Harry edged toward the door, the fiery burn of curiosity making his skin itch.

He realised the pair hadn't heard a word he's spoken. Harry found it slightly disconcerting to see Nymphadora Tonks awkwardly patting Draco Malfoy's back. What made it worse was when the pale wizard's head dropped to her shoulder. Harry knew the bloke wasn't crying, but the stuttered breaths made him uneasy. The last thing he ever expected to feel was sympathy for the man and Harry didn't like it, not one bit.

* * *

Healer Miriam Strout carefully surveyed her patient with a knowing gaze. While the witch in question was sporting the Malfoy ring, it didn't dissuade her from her opinions. From the small glance she'd had into the young witch's scant memories, her suspicions had only risen.

She waved her wand, running the precursory diagnostic tests and was completely unsurprised as to their results. Miriam clucked her tongue, silently reproving Healer Greene. He was a good Healer most days, however, he was easily distracted, by any attractive witch, which had always caused him to be lax in his duties.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now." Miriam murmured to herself. "It isn't as if anything could be done about it. What's done is done, my dear. It seems you shall be the next Lady Malfoy, no matter who you are." The kindly Healer patted Hermione's clenched fist, unfurling it with a low sigh.

Narcissa Malfoy swallowed hard, gasping softly at the Healer's soft words. She couldn't tell her husband. It would surely be disastrous and only bring the girl to ruin. Lucius Malfoy was not known for his considerate nature. Despite the end of the war, he would never accept her. Narcissa knew it was only a matter of time before the poor girl regained her memory and then where would they be?

"No need to hide in the shadows Narcissa." Miriam didn't turn, instead she was poking and prodding the thin white scar decorating Hermione's ribs.

"Is that from…from…" Narcissa struggled, but Healer Strout didn't intervene, instead calming waiting. "Dolohov's curse?"

"Aye. She's lucky it didn't kill her, though from what I've heard, she Silenced the bastard. It doesn't usually leave a mark, though she is the only one to have ever survived it. Poor Remus wasn't as fortunate, though Dolohov was able to speak the incantation. I suppose that has more to do with it than anything. I noticed Draco Transfigured her robes…"

"He's still clinging to the idea of a witch he can never have." Narcissa dabbed the corner of her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief as she gazed down at the distraught witch.

She patted the girl's hand, studying the ring on her finger. Narcissa wasn't sure what bits of magic had been performed, but it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed. She shuddered, attempting to imagine the fury of her husband.

"It seems he has her." Miriam cast a sidelong glance at the taller witch, curious to see her reactions.

"He can't know, not now. It isn't safe. Merlin, it might never be safe." Narcissa sunk into the chair beside Hermione's bed, uncustomarily affectionate to the girl. She touched her fingers, stroked her dark hair, and felt tears pricking the corners of her blue eyes.

"I wasn't aware Lucius detested Half-Bloods as much as he did Muggle-borns." Miriam's knowing smile raised Narcissa's ire, her lips thinning into a hard line.

"Half-Blood but she…." Narcissa paused, carefully considering the girl's extraordinary magical ability. "Who?" Miriam had to give the Malfoy Matriarch credit for quickly catching on.

"Langston Fawley according to the report. If I had to guess, I'd say it was before he married Tremaine." The Healer shivered with obvious disdain, wary of Narcissa's reactions.

"Does he know?" Narcissa's long fingertips gently caressed Hermione's face as the door to the witch's room swung up.

"Does who know what?!" Draco Malfoy demanded, irritated with the company.

Despite uncomfortably seeking comfort from his cousin, Draco's mood was not improved. In fact, if it was believable, it was worse than before. He rudely pushed passed Healer Strout and sat on the edge of Hermione's bed. He didn't know why she was still sleeping, but it agitated him.

He was trapped within the confines of St. Mungo's until she was fit to return home. In that moment, he despised his father and the blasted Betrothal agreement, but more specifically the Bindings. He hadn't expected that bit of information when the agreement was thrust into his unwilling face. His father's knowing smirk had added to his frustrations, but Draco knew his hands were tied.

Hermione inhaled deeply, whimpering in her restless sleep, drawing Draco's attention from his own laments. She shifted toward him, and he could have sworn she reached for him, which he found strange. No matter how many times he'd shagged Astoria during his last year at Hogwarts, she'd never stayed the night. She'd never reached for him nor offered the slightest bit of affection. It hadn't bothered him then, it wasn't as if he was emotionally attached to her or anything, but seeing her in distress now, did strange things to the beat of his heart.

"Don't die." Hermione whimpered, fisting the cool white sheets beneath her, and Miriam Strout sighed, wondering how long she could keep such secrets.

 _Hermione felt as if her skin were being flayed from her bones. Her body twisted and arched across the marble. Her ears were ringing with a primal scream she recognised as her own._

" _Stupefy!" Draco Malfoy shot the spell, hitting Antonin Dolohov square in the chest and quickly spun on his heel, stunning the remaining Death Eaters._

" _Draco! What have you done? Are you mad?"_

" _Mother, go to the cellar and release your guests." Narcissa opened her mouth to argue, but when faced with the fiery rage in her son's eyes, her head bobbed and she hurried away._

" _Granger. Granger, please be alright. Hermione?" He knelt beside her, stroking her cheek with trembling fingers._

 _Hermione groaned, and he expelled a sigh of relief, carefully drawing her into his arms. He covered her exposed thighs, to the best of his ability, with her tattered robes and buried his face in her knotted curls._

" _Hermione, please open your eyes, love. I've got to get you out before He comes." Draco angrily wiped his eyes and held her against his chest._

" _Malfoy? What have you done to her?!" Ron Weasley rushed forward angrily, as was expected, but Harry intervened quickly._

" _Ron, it wasn't him. He wouldn't. Come on then, we don't have much time." Harry Potter lightly touched Draco's shoulder, ignoring the streaks of tears on his cheeks and his red-rimmed eyes._

" _Potter, get the others out of here. The other Death Eaters will be waking momentarily. I'll hold them off. Here, you'll need this if you have a hope of defeating that bastard." Draco Malfoy thrust his wand into Harry's hand, and glanced quickly at his nervous, trembling mother. "Take her with you. She's not all bad. Blindfold her, bind her, do whatever you need to do, just don't let her return."_

 _Antonin Dolohov groaned, and Ron Weasley was quick to kick the Death Eater in the ribs. He wanted nothing more than to wrench Hermione out of the blond bastards arms, but it was obvious she was injured. Instead, he took his angst out on the semi-conscious Death Eaters, with relish._

 _Narcissa Malfoy observed her son's tenderness where the Muggle born witch was concerned, and narrowed her blue eyes appropriately. It was obvious the boy fancied her and now wasn't a time for such things. She crouched beside her son and handed him her wand._

" _You can't remain here Draco, especially not defenceless." She brushed his hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek. Draco nodded curtly, quickly dismissing his mother while he struggled to his feet with Hermione firmly wedged in his arms._

" _Potter, here. You've got to take Granger. Tell her…tell her I…tried."_

" _What are you going to do?" Harry questioned the taller wizard, curious as well as concerned._

" _Tell them I was Imperioused of course. I might be a coward, but I'm not a fool."_

" _Please…Malfoy…stay with…me." Hermione's feeble fingers struggled to maintain a hold on his shirt, but she faltered while being transferred into Harry's arms._

 _Draco avoided the probing gaze of the green-eyed wizard and leaned over her. He brushed matted strands of dark hair from her forehead and tucked a few behind her ear. He placed his lips directly against her ear and sighed shakily._

" _Can't love. I've got a job to do, and so do you." Hermione turned her head slowly, and it would have taken nothing at all for Draco's lips to meet hers._

" _Don't die." She whispered, her top lip brushing his bottom, and closed her eyes._

"You've got to go back!" Hermione thrashed in her sleep, tossing her head from side to side, "You can't just leave him there!"

Draco looked to Healer Strout for answers, but she offered nothing, her face carefully blank. He watched her back toward the door, prepared to argue with the woman, but he blinked and she was gone. Narcissa rose slowly, Hermione's muttered angst causing her to revisit things she believed were best left in the past.

"I don't know what to do." Draco detested admitting such weaknesses to his mother of all people, but considering the current situation, there wasn't much choice in the matter.

"Comfort her." Narcissa swallowed, her hands fluttering nervously, and quietly left her son and his intended to their own devices.

Draco literally balked at the idea of comforting Astoria Greengrass. However, the longer he watched her thrash about, the more he softened to the idea. He attempted to recall the moments when they had actually been friends, but he'd never seen her cry.

Hermione's eyes suddenly flew open and she was throwing her arms around his neck. She quickly climbed into his lap, missing the confusion in his eyes in her haste. Her trembling body molded itself to his, and Draco was unaccustomed to the sensation.

"You're here. You're really here. I told him to go back, but he wouldn't. He's so bloody stubborn. I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you." Draco awkwardly wrapped his arms around her waist loosely, hoping she'd come to her senses soon.

Hermione stroked the back of his head, sighing as the familiar scent of pine and sandalwood filled her nostrils. She lightly kissed the side of this throat, frowning at his obvious tension before turning her attention to his cheek. She realised his eyes were closed, and his breathing was a bit on the shallow side.

Draco was sure he was dreaming. It was a dream, it couldn't possibly be reality. When he closed his eyes, it was easy to pretend his arms were filled with a pliable, most willing Hermione Granger, rather than an easily confused Astoria Greengrass. As he took a small breath, he was sure he smelled the essence of lavender wrapped amidst the alluring linger of lemons.

The last thing he wished to do was open his eyes and watch his dream fade to dust. He squeezed his eyelids tightly, desperately clinging to his faux reality. The cool lips against his neck didn't aid his ability to return to the present.

Draco was tired, utterly and completely downtrodden really. In the end, he knew he was only attempting to fool himself and he was failing miserably. The niggling voice in the back of his mind was constantly shouting at him.

Draco tightened his arms around the soft witch, reveling in the feel of parted lips against his cheek. Astoria had never been so sweet. She'd always been the sort of witch to take what she wanted without second thought. Draco didn't mind these sorts of subtle differences and while his thoughts constantly strayed elsewhere, he still managed to relax, visions of Hermione dancing on his eyelids.

 _'I think I love her.'_ Draco felt his pulse rapidly pounding, catching speed even, at his admission, and it terrified him.

He attempted to disentangle himself from the witch, but she wouldn't allow him to budge. Draco wasn't sure when her legs had worked their way around his waist, but he knew they were now locked behind his back. He took a deep breath, prepared a scathing remark, but it was lost in his throat when Hermione's soft breasts pressed into his chest.

"I shouldn't have let you leave like that, but I was such a mess. I should have told you. I always regretted not telling you, and now it's too late." He hadn't the slightest idea what she was going on about, but he could feel drops of moisture on his cheek, and knew she was crying.

Hermione grasped his face in her hands, studying every crease, memorising every angle, before it was swept away. She refused to be afraid, not again. The thin grasp she held on her memories was quickly fading, and she hated every second that passed which took her further away from the wizard within her grasp.

With a shaky sigh, she pressed her lips to his, her toffee eyes fluttering shut. Draco Malfoy's on the other hand, flew open, but he couldn't wrench himself away. The feel of her lips was achingly familiar, and he welcomed it. It took him a minute to respond, but considering the witch was insistent, she didn't seem to mind the reluctance.

Draco tasted the sweetness of her plump lips, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and sucking lightly. She didn't taste as he once remembered, but he supposed the passing of time could alter almost anything. She sighed against his lips and he couldn't help but to tease the tip of her tongue with his own, but it was her light moan that caused his eyes to fly open once more.

He tore his lips from hers, a prickly feeling racing across his skin. Hermione's brow furrowed and her eyes slowly opened, pleased to see she wasn't dreaming. A tiny hand brushed across his cheek, just the way Hermione had always done and Draco swore she was there. He swore she was seated in his lap, wrapped in his arms.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Malfoy." Hermione whispered. "I should tell you now, before I wake up and you're gone again."

"How can…I don't…this isn't…" Draco squinted, sure he was fit for the Janus Thickey Ward when he spied the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the familiar light in her intoxicating brown eyes. "Tell me what?" He gave up trying to understand, and now only wished the answer.

"I'm so stupid. I can't have you. I feel like I could burst and it's not fair. It's not fair at all. We never had a bloody chance and…" She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes, her long lashes fluttering, and he knew the moment was almost gone.

Draco took a chance and leaned forward slightly, capturing her lips. He kissed her gently, holding her in his lap, his hands remaining above her waist for the sake of propriety. She sighed, her fingers digging into his scalp, her mouth moving with his, as pleasant little sounds escaped between them.

"Ms. Greengrass! I expected better." Healer Greene glowered at the pair from the doorjamb, just before he slammed the door shut.

"Ugh, you're ruining it. Go away." Draco tore his lips from Hermione's only long enough to scold the handsome Healer.

Hermione made no move to disentangle herself, in fact, she clung tighter to Draco Malfoy, an uneasiness filling her chest. Everything was wrong, just as much as it was right and her head began to pound. The ache began in her eye, as had become habit since the accident, and she gasped.

"Mr. Malfoy, I really must insist…" Healer Greene strode forward, intending on wrenching his patient from the other wizard's lap, but she scowled at him with blazingly angry eyes.

"Don't touch me." Hermione toyed with Draco's pale blonde hair, studying the grey eyes observing her. She looked to Healer Matthew Greene and shuddered. "I love him." Her arms tightened around Draco's neck and her forehead lightly touched his. "I love you. I don't know who I am, but I know that much."

"I haven't the slightest idea what the fuck is going on, but I no longer care. I'm taking her home." Draco Malfoy hefted his witch in his arms and stood without another word.

Healer Greene sputtered, but there was nothing more to say. He refused to open the door, or even acknowledge the smirk on the Malfoy heir's lips. In a fit of rage, he hexed the feather pillow haphazardly lying on the floor, feeling no sense of satisfaction as the white feathers rained down upon him.


	9. Wavering

Wavering

* * *

"It was brilliant Harry, absolutely brilliant. Now I understand what the fuss is all about." Ron Weasley sat at the long wooden table at the Burrow with a dreamy expression on his face.

"Yeah, but Ron, what I'm trying to tell you…"

"I don't care Harry." Ron brushed off his oldest friend, rather content to lose himself in the memories of a naked Astoria writhing beneath him on the Quidditch Pitch.

"Ron, what if my suspicions are correct? I mean, what if she's not Hermione? Even you've got to admit there's more to life than a good shag." Harry Potter resisted the urge to slam his fist onto the table to wake Ron from his stupor.

"Yeah, of course there is Harry. I mean sex is great. Sex is wonderful really, but there's also Quidditch." Ron smiled, and Harry had never wished to punch someone as much as he wished to resort to physical violence in order to remove the dopey smile pasted on his mate's face.

Harry was fit to jinx his oldest friend, but he restrained himself. It was obvious Ron was completely uninterested in discovering the truth of the matter, and Harry couldn't really blame him. He understood the allure of a willing witch as much as anyone else, but at the same time, he wondered how Ron would feel to discover it wasn't Hermione warming his bed.

"Dammit get back here!" Harry's eyebrows shot to the sky when a disheveled child ran through the Burrow, crashing into the back door.

He watched the boy grapple with the handle, snickering to himself as the clamor of feet resounded in the narrow corridors. Fred Weasley snatched the boy around the waist, seconds before the boy opened the door to freedom.

"Stop struggling!" Fred bellowed, locking his arms around the boy while attempting to avoid the flailing limbs.

"Lemme go! Lemme go! She ain't dead! She ain't!" The thrashing child's face was covered in tears, and bogeys, and his homespun sweater was split at the seams.

"Elliot…" Fred sighed, pinning the boy's arms to his side, and holding him tight. "I'm sorry, really I am."

"I ain't nothing now. I ain't got no home. I ain't got no dad, and now me mum's dead too." Elliot sobbed into Fred's chest, his dirty fingers hidden in the folds of Fred's dark brown shirt.

Fred scooped the child into his arms, forcing his spindly little legs around his waist, and carried him into the sitting area. He stoked the fire with his wand, and carefully sat on the shabby sofa. While he had plenty of experience where death was concerned, he hadn't the slightest idea what to say to a child who was now an orphan. He looked to Harry, his eyes pleading for his brother's orphan mate to step in.

"This here is Harry Potter, I'm sure you've heard of him." Fred smoothed the wrinkles in Elliot's shirt, rocking the child slightly to calm him. Ron had enough sense to leave them be and slipped into the garden, without a word.

"Me mum said Harry Potter was the reason we was alive." Elliot sniffled noisily, wiping his hand across his dripping nostrils.

"I had loads of help, but that's not the point. My parents died when I was small, so small in fact, I don't even remember them. I was raised by Muggles and lived in a cupboard under the stairs. If it weren't for the Weasleys, I imagine my life would have turned out quite differently. They have a tendency to share their love with almost everyone. I can't imagine them turning you away knowing you haven't anyone any longer." Harry didn't patronize the boy with a smile or even a pat on the back. He nodded curtly and sat beside Fred, waiting for his words to sink home.

"They won't want me if'n they knows what I did." Elliot wiped his face on Fred's shirt, and Fred had enough sense to ignore the bogeys, and hug the child tighter.

"I've done plenty of things I shouldn't, they've never turned me away." Harry shrugged, shoving his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

"I was hungry. I don't know the last time I had been so hungry. It was five galleons. Five whole galleons can buy lots of eats. I didn't mean to make Miss Molly cry." Elliot tremored in Fred's arms and the red-haired wizard groaned with guilt.

Harry's face remained stoic, however the wheels were turning as he pieced together the mystery, which had plagued him for weeks. It was obvious Fred and Blaise had utilised this poor orphan in their diabolical scheme. His heart broke for Elliot, but at the same time, he knew the Weasleys would take good care of him. Harry was more interested in discovering the poor boy's role in a decidedly Slytherin scheme.

"Whatever do you mean Elliot?" Harry forced himself to relax, leaned back on the shabby sofa, and crossed his arms.

"He said they wouldn't get hurt. He said they were in the wrong place, and he wanted to fix it. I stopped listenin' cuz he gaved me the galleons and I wanted to eat. I threwed the powder and then it was dark and scary and then I was here." Elliot sighed heavily, obviously relieved by his confession.

"Fred! The poor boy is exhausted and a mess!" Molly Weasley burst through the door of the Burrow with her arms laden with vegetables from the market. Arthur dutifully followed her, nodding quickly to Harry and Fred before dropping his packages off in the kitchen. "Come on then, Elliot. First you'll have a bath, and while you're washing up, I'll whip you up a batch of that beef stew you love." Harry hurried over to Molly, grasped her elbow, and whispered in her ear quickly.

Elliott, it seemed, was hesitant to relinquish his place in Fred's lap. Despite Harry's reassurances, he was quite terrified of being turned away. The wildness in his eyes grew the longer Molly and Harry whispered, and he was set to bolt when she turned to him.

"You poor boy. Well, that settles that then. Come on, let's get you cleaned up and fed. Arthur and I shall be taking you to Diagon Alley later. You've worn those clothes long enough, you're due a fresh set." Molly offered her hand, patiently waiting for the grubby boy to approach her.

Elliot didn't much like the idea of vacating the safety of Fred's lap, but after a few encouraging words, he nodded. He climbed off Fred's bony lap and sighed. He wasn't used to kindness, not even from his mum. She had taught him charity was the worst thing to ever exist, but Elliot knew he didn't have much choice in the matter. He had to stay to survive.

Harry's soft smile shifted the moment Elliot and Molly were out of view, and he spun to Fred so quickly, the tall red haired wizard balked at the ferocity in the green eyes. Fred hastily stood and offered his palms in silent supplication, unwilling to draw wands against a dear friend of the family. Harry had no such qualms and using the tip of his wand, pointed toward a lumpy stuffed chair near the hearth.

"Where's Zabini? You had a hand in this didn't you? I mean, I knew it was some underhanded ploy to get Hermione and Malfoy together, but I never really suspected you. You're Fred Weasley. You're the jokester who runs a shop and made a mockery of Dolores Umbridge…" The biting edge in Harry's voice dissipated as quickly as it had reared its ugly head. "Explain it to me, yeah? I'd hate to be forced into dragging you to the Ministry for questioning."

Fred shoved his red, feathered locks behind his ears and groaned. It was supposed to be a bloody prank. It was supposed to aid him in his quest for normalcy. It was supposed to be everything it wasn't.

"Zabini said Malfoy was in love with Hermione. I made some flippant remark about their behaviour during the War. We hadda good laugh, and I mentioned Malfoy saving my life. Don't even think of lecturing me. I've held plenty of your secrets for years and it's absolute bollocks. D'ya really think my mum and dad would give a rat's arse to discover if it wasn't for Draco Malfoy, I wouldn't even be here? I mean, I'm sure Angelina and George would be thrilled, considering I wouldn't be around to see the guilt in their eyes, but that's neither here nor there." Fred sat straight, daring the Boy Who Lived to refute his words.

He'd kept his voice relatively low. It wasn't for his sake or even for Harry, it was for his mum. She had a tendency to be even more overbearing and protective than she had before, which he supposed happened when your entire family goes to War. There was no telling any of them would come out alive. It was a miracle a family as large as the Weasleys had come away unscathed, and Fred named that miracle…Draco Malfoy.

"We all know Hermione Granger, the real Hermione Granger is never going to marry my brother. He's a great big bumbling buffoon. I love him and all, but she'd be bored to tears and their rows would bring the house down around all our ears. Ron's happy with his witch. We can't ruin it, not yet."

"Not yet? Really, Fred? Don't you understand? It's already too late. Someone, I'm going to hazard a guess, and state it was Zabini, slipped the Malfoy Family Ring on her finger. They're getting married in a fortnight for fuck's sake. St. Mungos and the Auror Department have been going mad trying to decipher the sort of spell that was used on them." Harry gripped his dark hair, and resisted the urge to scream.

Fred shrugged, completely unconcerned with Hermione and Astoria's plight. He assumed they'd eventually regain their memories, but it would be too late to do anything about it, which suited him just fine. Considering the thing he'd witnessed between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, it was best they remained together. Their relationship had been riddled with tension as it was, and Fred spent many an hour wishing the duo would shag it out of their systems.

"It's always supposed to have been Ron and Hermione at the end of the day." Harry muttered before slumping onto the red and green plaid sofa.

"Idiot. Any fool could see Hermione would have to be mad to accept my brother, and you're fooling yourself. Don't you remember Grimmauld Place?" Fred propped his cheek on his hand, batting his eyes.

Harry groaned, constantly caught between the reality he wished to occur, and the disaster that happened to be swirling around him. He closed his eyes, begging the gods that be, to keep him from falling headlong into a memory. Of course, they mocked him as the images danced across his closed eyelids.

" _Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched."_

 _The Patronus dissolved into nothingness. Ron let out a noise between a whimper and a groan and dropped onto the sofa: Hermione vacillated between joining him and remaining beside a slightly shaken Draco Malfoy._

" _They're all right, they're all right!" she whispered, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, Ron half laughed, and Draco hugged her tight._

" _Harry…" Ron looked slightly guilty over his great sigh of relief, but Harry was preoccupied with the pounding in his skull._

" _It's not a problem," said Harry, sickened by the pain in his head. "It's your family, 'course you were worried. I'd feel the same way." He thought of Ginny. "I do feel the same way."_

 _The pain in his scar was reaching a peak, burning as it had back in the garden of the Burrow, and yet he still managed to notice Draco Malfoy was still firmly wrapped around his best friend, and she wasn't complaining. Faintly he heard Hermione say "I don't want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags I've brought and camp in here tonight?"_

 _Harry remembered rushing off the lavatory, forced to observe Voldemort's dealings, and then it was morning. He woke early next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains. It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except his companions slow, deep breathing. Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him. Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions from the sofa, so that her silhouette was raised inches above his. Her arm curved to the floor, and Harry expected her fingers to be inches from Ron's, instead he observed long pale fingers curled around hers, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He wondered if they had fallen asleep holding hands. The idea made him feel strangely lonely._

" _Oi, Harry!" Fred Weasley, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes frantically gestured toward the shocked wizard._

 _Harry carefully crossed the room and the two stepped into the kitchen. For a moment, Harry was certain the red haired Weasley was an apparition, so he stared at him a bit stupidly. Fred wiggled his eyebrows and held a finger to his lips._

" _Shouldn't be here. Dad would have my head, but I managed to slip out to check on you lot. From the looks of it, Malfoy and Hermione are quite cozy yeah?"_

" _I'm going to take a look around, you can come if you like." Harry ignored the insinuation and simply accepted Fred was present for the moment._

 _They searched bedrooms and found bits and pieces of letters. Harry was thankful Fred kept the humorous remarks to a minimum, simply pointing out objects of interest. When Harry discovered his mother's letter, Fred kindly stepped outside the room, mumbling about seeing after Ron._

 _Harry quietly made his way downstairs, intent upon a cup of tea, when Fred grasped his arm and covered his mouth. He opened the door to the kitchen the slightest bit, and forced Harry's blazing green eyes to the crack. Harry's mouth would have dropped open if there hadn't been a freckled palm pressed firmly against his lips._

 _Hermione was setting the kettle on to boil and reaching for the tin of tea. Draco Malfoy sidled up behind her, and instead of snatching the tin for her, his fingertips dragged across the exposed skin of her forearm, causing her to gasp. Harry expected her to shout at him and toss his hands off her, but she didn't. Hermione closed her eyes, and leaned backward into his chest._

 _Draco Malfoy took advantage of her position and planted his chin on her shoulder, breathing deeply. He settled both hands on her hips before wrapping them around her waist. He whispered something in her ear and Hermione shook her head, blushing furiously. She turned around his arms and Harry truly believed she was going to slap him._

 _Draco caught her upraised hand and kissed her palm, and suddenly Harry felt ill. The moment was entirely too intimate for his tastes and he wrenched himself free of Fred's hold. He gagged into his hand, and backed away from the door._

" _Why did you feel the need to show me that?" Harry hissed, hurrying back up the stairs, wishing for nothing more than to bleach his eyeballs._

" _Oh that's nothing, I got here hours ago. They were completely wrapped around each other, almost as if they were in the midst of a good shag, and sleeping Malfoy has an affinity for Hermione's breasts." Fred guffawed loudly once they were safely in Sirius Black's bedchamber._

" _H-he molests her?" Harry felt instant outrage, despite Malfoy's seemingly changed disposition._

" _She didn't seem to mind."_

"Oi! Weasley!" Blaise Zabini stumbled in the back door of The Burrow with a wild sort of look in his dark eyes, quickly glancing over his shoulder. "You've got to help me. These bloody Aurors…" Blaise's words drifted into silence as he stared into the probing eyes of one particularly irate, Harry Potter. "Fuck."

Blaise contemplated turning on his heel, and heading directly to the garden, but the simmering fury in Harry's eyes delayed his flight. He considered reaching for his wand, but Harry was faster, and soon Blaise was swiftly seated on the plaid sofa, while the glowering wizard looked down at him. Harry glanced between the two guilty parties and attempted to formulate his words.

"What…how…" Harry paused and took a long, deep breath. "Tell me what happened."

* * *

Hermione stretched her hands over her head, wincing as her the crick in her back made itself known. She glanced about the modest library, groaning upon realising she'd spent the night amidst a sea of books once more. She pushed off from the dark wood table with a frown. She blinked a few times while smoothing the front of her billowing skirts and chanced a glance out the window.

The morning sun was low in the sky and Hermione knew she would be having her morning cup of tea alone. She was used to such things, though she couldn't say she enjoyed them. In fact, her favourite mornings were when Blaise would make an appearance.

His company was lighthearted and easy, in comparison to the company of Draco Malfoy. The tall blond wizard was dark, brooding, and obviously resentful of her presence. She was determined to remain an unassuming houseguest, keeping to herself, and making herself scarce when he rose for the day.

Hermione hurried to what she was told was 'her' room and changed into yet another ridiculously billowing skirt. No matter how many times she was informed of her habits, she balked at most of them. Instead, her days were spent in the garden, or even the library, surrounded by an impressive number of books while she researched her predicament.

She made her way down the narrow corridor, desperately clutching another series of books. She had made it her life's work to discover the cure to her current ailment. She knew the answer existed, and she was nothing, if not determined.

"You're up early." Hermione dropped an armload of books on various Memory Charms as the deep voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Blaise! You startled me. I wasn't expecting to see you before noon." Hermione smiled sweetly, allowing him to retrieve her books and set them on the edge of the table.

"Cissa asked me to speak with you." Blaise sighed, obviously uncomfortable with his task as he escorted her toward the modest kitchen.

"She really is quite persistent." Hermione sighed and set the kettle to boil, rubbing the creases in her forehead with the fingertips of her right hand.

Blaise settled easily into one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the oval dining table and watched her scuttle about. He enjoyed his visits with her, as long as Draco wasn't about. He made himself scarce these days, though there wasn't a need. Since her release from St. Mungos there had only been one instance of muddled memories.

"She cited generations of tradition, as if that would entice you."

"Perhaps it would have before, I can't really say for sure. I don't wish to return there. There's something about it that sets me on edge. I don't like the way it makes me feel. I barely made it past the foyer." Hermione spooned tealeaves into china cups before pouring the piping hot water.

Blaise shifted, avoiding her probing glance in favour of studying the dark green leaves swirling amidst the steam. He poured a liberal amount of cream into his cup and sipped it carefully. He cringed upon hearing the sound of heavy feet trodding upon the hardwoods and braced himself for the uncustomary appearance of Draco Malfoy.

"I know he doesn't want me here. I don't blame him. I know his mother wants nothing more than to utilise me as her personal dress up doll. I know my parents want absolutely nothing to do with me. If I had somewhere else to go, I would." Hermione squeezed a wedge of lemon into her tea before adding a dollop of honey.

"Cissa believes if she were able to entice you to reside at Malfoy Manor, her darling son would return home. Lucius is being particularly difficult and honestly believes we're keeping you hidden away from him. You do realise you're to wed in three days?" Blaise longed for a crumpet or scone and it seemed Hermione was quite the mind reader.

His dark eyes were hard pressed to keep from popping from his head as he watched her smoothly navigate the kitchen. Blaise had spent many a Sunday morning in Hermione Granger's kitchen while she busied herself making lavish breakfasts and it seemed she had retained those memories. He smiled happily while the bacon popped noisily in the pan, while she heavily whisked the eggs.

"I honestly don't wish to think of the wedding. Narcissa has been barraging me with owls and demands. It's all excruciating. Did you know I haven't a dress? It seems my mother was due to take me to the shops, but decided against it. I've never felt so alone. At least, I don't think I have." The last bit of her words dropped off, and Blaise swallowed hard.

He'd spent hours trying to convince Draco to spend some time with her, but he'd much rather sulk. Astoria Greengrass didn't truly have friends. She had clients, and witches who fawned over her. She'd also never truly had dark moments in her life, therefore when the time finally arrived, she was alone.

"I'll take you about. We're not particularly far from Lyme Regis. They've got a history quite rich in…"

"Fossils…there's a festival I believe. Oh my gods, I've remembered something." The large mixing bowl teetered in her trembling hands and Blaise was quick to catch it before the delicious egg concoction crashed to the floor.

"You're absolutely correct. Why don't you see what else you can remember while you make me an omelet." Blaise winked, bumping her hip lightly before placing the bowl beside the cooker.

"The museum, oh I loved the museum, did you know it was built on Mary Anning's home? She was the most famous female fossilist. Sadly, she died quite young, but her discoveries are absolutely fascinating." Blaise was pleased to see the light in Hermione's eyes and even a light spring in her step as she set plates on the table.

"Might as well set a place for Malfoy. It's obvious from the amount of noise stemming from his bedchamber, he'll march into the kitchen momentarily." Blaise greedily snatched a fresh scone and slathered it with butter. "I'm not against wandering about some strange Muggle places, but we've got to get you a dress. I've actually an appointment with Harry Potter, and since the Weasel is in the midst of Quidditch season, he's been elected to bring Hermione Granger with him."

"Jeannie." Hermione whispered, carefully spooning fluffy scrambled eggs laden with cheese onto a plate beside a heaping stack of crisp bacon.

"What are you doing here, Zabini? Why is she cooking?" Draco Malfoy scowled, sneering heavily at the brunette witch obviously at ease in his kitchen.

"Your mother begged me for yet another favour. Don't look so hopeful, Tori here turned her down flat. It seems Malfoy Manor makes her uneasy." Blaise moaned, shoveling the hot food into his mouth, while glowering at his mate. "She needs a bloody dress, and her own mother has deserted her. I'm taking her to Lyme Regis for a bit, to ease the sting. I suppose we'll take lunch with Potter and Granger as well."

Hermione carefully placed a plate of food near Draco's chair, and backed away quickly. She had learned he didn't appreciate her invading his space. He had shouted at her a fair bit during her first few days in his quaint home. It seemed he had expected her to despise it and flee immediately. Instead, she quite enjoyed the space, reveling in the homey feel, despite his attitude.

"Hmpf, well, might as well accompany you lot." Draco grunted, studying the breakfast fare with wary eyes. "When did you learn to cook?" He directed his question at the brunette witch, yet refused to look upon her.

"Oh please Malfoy, you bloody well know my mother taught me ages ago. It's not as if you've never enjoyed one of my breakfasts before." Hermione shuddered, the empty pan sliding from her fingers to clatter upon the ground.

"Your parents have decided it's in everyone's best interest to invite the entire Wizarding World to your nuptials." Blaise veered the conversation toward less pleasant matters, allowing the rattled witch to compose herself, as well as distracting Draco.

"Of course they have. Why not make things more difficult. It's not bad enough I'm to marry a witch who barely knows her own name, no, let's make a mockery of it as well. Delightful." Draco sneered at the cup of tea near his right hand, instead reaching for the silver flask within the pocket of his charcoal gray blazer.

Hermione attempted to ignore him, but the heavy feeling weighing down her chest had other ideas. She placed her teacup in its saucer with trembling fingers, ignoring the clatter and cleared her plate without eating a single bite. She refused to allow the burning tears to fall, as she didn't understand their arrival in the first place.

"Blaise, thank you for the offer, but I think it would be best if I went alone. It seems I must become accustomed to solitude and now is as good a time as any." Hermione whispered softly, and patted the large wizard's shoulder before hurrying from Draco Malfoy's home.

The moment she was free of the tension, she transfigured her ridiculous heels into a pair of comfortable trainers, wondering when she ever would have seen such a thing. She wandered down the deserted streets, barely seeing the historical buildings or even the Muggles.

There was something about the area that seemed familiar and there were many moments when hazy memories flitted in and out of her mind's eye. No longer did she attempt to cling to them as it angered Draco more than he was willing to admit. Her plan of course, was to procure a residence of her own.

She was well aware the Betrothal Agreement demanded she reside with Draco, but she was positive there was some sort of legal loophole to free her. She wasn't necessarily against the idea of wedding the attractive wizard, but he detested her. She knew he was furious she hadn't been able to recall a particularly embarrassing moment during her stay at St. Mungos, but that was hardly her fault.

She recalled being startled by the arrival of Healer Greene. There was something about that wizard she found off-putting and didn't wish to spend a single moment alone with him. His untimely arrival rattled her, as did the condemnation in his eyes. She couldn't remember how she'd become completely wrapped around Draco Malfoy and snogging him no less.

She blushed, remembering the feel of his lips upon hers and the way his fingers had dug into her hips, holding her close. She stumbled, tripping over a small stone in the roadway and struck her head on the hard stone of the closest building.

" _I should have known it would be you." Draco Malfoy huffed, rolling his eyes with a sneer that didn't quite reach his eyes._

" _Yes, I can see you're so very surprised. As if there was any doubt really? However, I must say I am surprised to see you here." Hermione hefted her trunk into the Head compartment, struggling a bit. "You could give me a hand you inconsiderate lout."_

" _I could yes, but where would be the fun in that, Granger?" Of course, he snatched her trunk, casually tossing it into the hold, and shut the door quietly, sealing them away from the world. "I've missed you." He moved toward her, but she backed away, holding her hands out._

" _I'm sorry. Everything has been incredibly busy and well, I'm surprised I managed to get away to come back to Hogwarts at all. Harry and Ron wanted me to join them in their Auror training, but I couldn't resist the idea…"_

" _Granger, you're rambling. Go on then, say what you mean." Hermione sighed, watching the careful way his silvery eyes closed. He was quite adept at hiding his emotions and she knew now, he was concealing them from her._

" _I'm dating Ron." He flinched, his fingers gouging his palms. His jaw clenched so tightly, he wondered how his teeth hadn't shattered to dust._

" _Of course you are." The words were spoken low and devoid of emotion, but Hermione knew him. She knew him better than she wished to at times and knew her confession had hurt him._

" _Malfoy, I…it's just…" Hermione wrung her hands nervously, her dark hair falling into her face._

" _Granger, it's what you wanted. Don't apologise. Besides, its not as if we were romantically involved and you've broken my heart. We were friends…with certain…added benefits. Perhaps we'll be friends again. The world isn't ready for more." Draco opened his eyes, hoping his true feelings on the matter weren't blatantly obvious._

 _He observed the stiffness of her shoulders, the set of her jaw and the lingering sadness in her brown eyes. He wanted to ask her why, but knew it was better to remain apathetic. Hermione Granger was unattainable and the sooner he accepted such things, the better._

The ache in her head caused her to regain consciousness, though it had only been a moment or two. She rubbed the lump on the side of her head and carefully stood, leaning against the stone heavily. The skies chose that moment to open, the torrential rain soaking her ridiculous billowing blue skirts.

"Come on. Can't you let you sit about like this. You're soaked through." Hermione blinked rapidly, staring up in the grey eyes that haunted her dreams and gasped.

"I think I know who I am."


	10. Impending Memories

**AN: Sorry! I've been distracted by plot bunnies!**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Impending Memories

* * *

The last thing Astoria Greengrass wished to do was traipse about bloody Lyme Regis with Harry fucking Potter. She didn't give a rat's arse about fossils or history or any of the nonsense he was prattling on about. She wanted Ron to return from training with the Canons, but instead she was sopping wet in a horrid little flat near the sea.

"You're a bastard." Astoria spat, wringing her dark hair onto the floor without a second thought.

"You're the one that wanted to see your home." Harry sighed, highly displeased with his current companion.

"I don't live here. This is hideous. I would never. My parents would never allow me to live in such squalor." Astoria shuddered, refusing to even sit upon the red and gold plaid armchair near the hearth.

"Hermione Granger's parents are dead." Harry testily shouted, slamming the kettle onto the cooker.

"Yes, well, it's a bloody good thing I'm not Hermione Granger, now isn't it?" Astoria's dark eyes flashed with anger as she dropped her sodden cloak before the raging fire.

"How long have you known?" Harry turned on her, wiping the droplets of rain from his face, finally intrigued with the irritating witch.

Astoria huffed and finally settled on the sofa, crinkling her nose with distaste. It was obvious Hermione had simple tastes, and while Astoria could appreciate them, she was utterly exhausted attempting to fit into a role which was not hers to play. She crossed her toned legs, and studied the curious Harry Potter.

"Ages, really. Everything always felt wrong. I mean, the Weasleys really are a lovely family, but I never felt comfortable at the Burrow. The clothing was another issue entirely and Merlin, the books. Is this really her life? No wonder she's so miserable. I adore Ron, really I do, but he and Jeannie are completely ill suited. He'd drive her mad with his Quidditch and bumbling about. She's absolutely brilliant and he's…well, he's not stupid, but he'd bore her in no time." Astoria sighed, casually tossing her wet hair over her shoulder, sneering at the myriads of books lining the walls.

"Yeah, uhm, you didn't really answer the question, Tori." Harry poured them cups of tea and set them on Hermione's modest table for two.

"It was actually while I was shagging Ron for the first time. He was…so gentle and completely enamored with everything. I closed my eyes and suddenly I was lying beneath a disinterested Draco Malfoy. I opened my eyes and saw Ron staring down at me, telling me how beautiful I am and how much he loves me. I'd never…made love before, but I can't say that now. Sure, he thinks I'm her, and he was saying all those things to _her_ , but they meant something to me." Using a fingertip, Astoria wiped the singular tear from the corner of her eye.

She slowly rose from the sofa, taking in her surroundings with a languid sigh, and then sat across from a pensive Harry. She sipped her tea, waiting for him to shout at her, but he was eerily silent.

"I tried to tell him. I mean, I tried to suggest you weren't Hermione, but Ron wouldn't hear of it. Quite honestly, he prefers you now. In fact, he said you were absolutely perfect." Harry's little half smile would have been endearing and downright adorable, if Astoria hadn't been distracted by that tidbit of information.

She smiled, a true smile, her dark eyes lighting with a sparkle Harry hadn't known was capable of existing in the surly Slytherin. He was honestly surprised she had taken such a shine to his best mate. He assumed the Pureblood witch would hex the lot of them the moment her memories returned, and was pleased to see that wasn't the case at all.

"What happened exactly? I'm still a little hazy on the details. The last thing I remember was having a bit of a row with Ron in Diagon Alley, while Draco and Jeannie were off whispering." Astoria sipped her tea, squashing the shudder of revulsion upon discovering Harry Potter was absolute shit when it came to brewing a simple cup of tea.

"I wasn't there, but from what Blaise and Fred have confessed, it was a spell of Zabini's making. They enlisted the aid of a small orphan boy to toss the Peruvian Darkness Powder at the lot of you, and then Blaise cast the spell. They weren't expecting long-term memory loss, but the side effects can be a bit wonky when you create a spell while completely pissed." Astoria snorted, well aware Blaise Zabini was the type of wizard to do loads of inappropriate things when completely pissed.

"I-I don't want to give him up. Can't we just…" Blaise Zabini burst thru the front door of Hermione's quaint cottage, shivering against the cold.

"Oi! Malfoy and…I can't even keep track anymore, whoever she is, are on their way!" Blaise shoved passed Harry and huddled in front of the blazing fire, shaking out his cloak and waving his wand to dry his drenched clothing.

"Do you really think it's the best idea to have them all together?" Harry's brow furrowed deeply while he considered the implications of having the witches face to face, after their transformation, in the company of Draco Malfoy.

"Who cares? It's too late now, isn't it? He wasn't supposed to come! Everything is tits up!" Blaise snatched a patchwork quilt from the plaid armchair and wrapped it around his burly form as the warmth spread through his frozen limbs.

Astoria knocked over the wooden chair in her haste to stand, and ran for what she assumed was Hermione's bedroom. She wrenched open the closet, her upper lip curling in distaste as she shed her gown. It was quite a lovely gown, one of her numerous new purchases, but she didn't intend to give up being Hermione Granger without a fight.

She struggled into a dowdy tweed calf length skirt and a plain beige peasant top. Astoria sighed forlornly upon removing her dragon hide boots in favour of some low-heeled Muggle lace-ups, to complete the look. She twisted her dark waves into some semblance of a bun at the base of her neck, and with a quick wave of her wand, removed every trace of heavy kohl beneath her eyes.

When she returned to the sitting area, Harry and Blaise were shocked by her altered appearance, which was exactly what she wished to happen. Astoria crossed the room slowly, without a single sway to her hips and sat primly on the edge of the plaid armchair she had dismissed earlier as beneath her. She crossed her legs and even opened the dusty book on the side table, pretending to peruse the words, moments before an irritated Draco Malfoy and a disheveled Hermione Granger burst through the door.

"You could have bloody well waited for us!" Draco shouted, immediately removing his arm from his fiancée's shoulders.

"There's no need to shout. Blaise arrived only a few minutes earlier." Astoria gazed at Draco without recognition, without feeling the slightest bit of guilt when he blinked heavily.

She knew him quite well after all, and she knew pretending she didn't know him would hurt him. Her intention wasn't to cause him pain, but simply to retain that which she truly believed she'd earned. It had only been a few weeks since the switch, but contrary to popular belief, her Slytherin heart was not made of ice. She cared deeply for Ron Weasley, and his shocking red hair didn't hurt in the least.

While Astoria and Draco played some sort of silent cat and mouse, Harry Potter was busy observing Hermione. She carefully removed her shoes and her cloak, laying them on the long table near the door. It was difficult to keep the small smile from his lips as she tucked the wet strands of brown hair behind her ear, and ignored the gathering of witches and wizards in the room.

She gazed upon the walls, sparks of recognition lighting her eyes as she lingered on a photo of Harry, Ron, and herself at Hogwarts. Her first inclination was to reach for it, but she paused, glancing at Draco before moving on. Hermione sighed lightly and skirted the group in order to wander down the corridor with Harry hot on her heels.

She paused near her small study, smiling brightly at the array of books scattered around the room, yet forced herself to move on. The moment she stepped into her bedroom, Harry closed the door behind them soundlessly. Hermione fingered the top of her bureau, frowned at the pile of wet clothes on the floor, and finally kneeled beside her bed.

She reached beneath, sneezing as the air was filled with dust, and removed a rather large box. It was long, wooden, and not particularly tall. Harry was intrigued by the carvings, yet remained silent, not wishing to ruin the moment.

"How did I know this was here?" Hermione murmured to herself, her fingers shaking as they hovered over the brass clasp. "Every time I think I might know exactly who I am, the memory is gone. It's incredibly frustrating. Did you know there's not a single book on the subject of evasive memories?" Hermione huffed, finally staring directly into curious green eyes.

"Perhaps, it has to do with the spell." Astoria marched straight into the room, purposely bumping into a wide mouthed Harry before he could ruin everything. "I mean think of it, we don't remember much, if anything at all, and it seems our memories have a tendency to come and go. It could be the work of a shoddy spell, stranger things have happened."

Astoria carefully removed the long box from Hermione's fingers, and set it upon the bureau. She hadn't the slightest idea what was inside, but the last thing she wanted was Hermione Granger's memories to return before she had married Draco Malfoy. Astoria smiled at the confused witch and offered her a hand, making a mental note to thoroughly snoop through the box at a later time.

"Blaise mentioned you're in dire need of a dress. I can't say I'd be particularly helpful in that area, but I can't send you off with this ragtag group of blokes. A wedding dress needs a woman's touch. It's a shame your parents are being so obstinate. It's not surprising really, the Greengrass family has always been more concerned with their reputation than the lives of their daughters." Astoria patted Hermione's shoulder in a comforting sort of way, well, as much as she could manage, and directed the girl toward the closet. "I'm sure there's something in there you'll find acceptable. We can't have you catching your death."

In the sitting room, Blaise and Draco were glaring furiously at each other. They refused to speak, silently hoping the other would spontaneously combust and solve all their problems.

"You know something you unbelievable bastard." Draco finally conceded and snarled at his best mate.

"I know lots of things you git." Blaise spat, grinding his teeth together.

"Tori thought she knew who she was for a minute there, but you had to go and ruin it."

"Who cares? You've got to marry her anyway. Even if she never remembers who she is, she'll still be your wife. I didn't ruin anything, I simply ran passed, and tried to flag the stupid Muggle taxi, so we didn't catch a fucking cold, you ungrateful arse. Not that it worked! You're dripping everywhere!" Draco growled, low and long, yet waved his wand, drying his sopping clothes, before spinning on his heel to stare out the window.

He'd never been to Granger's home before, and silently remarked how it suited her. It was strange, and difficult, all at the same time, to see her again. It hurt, more than he was truly willing to admit, that she didn't recognise him. It seemed Draco had some farfetched idea that when he finally managed to see Hermione Granger again, he would be the catalyst to her returning memories. It wouldn't have changed his predicament, but he liked the idea of speaking with her one last time, before he was chained to Astoria Greengrass for the rest of his days.

Draco hated admitting the new Astoria wasn't half as annoying as the one from his days at Hogwarts. She was actually quite pleasant when he managed to spend a moment with her. She didn't flinch when the palm of his hand graced the small of her back. She didn't scoff when he went out on the town with Blaise. She was more than pleased to spend the evening alone surrounded by books, which still shocked him to his core.

He avoided her when he could, but the Betrothal Agreement decreed he was to properly court her. Therefore, he did what was demanded of him. Draco Malfoy escorted Astoria to various Wizarding restaurants, and doted on her with empty eyes, and smiles for the flashing lights. She never argued with him when it came to such things, and after a week of such behaviours, he stopped bracing himself for her wrath.

"Come on, Tori! We haven't all day! You're the one that insisted we visit Hogwarts, and we're late for our appointment as it is!" Draco bellowed down the corridor, shaking his head angrily.

He didn't understand why she wished to visit Hogwarts, it's not as if she had an affinity for the place while they were there. In fact, she constantly bitched about the dampness of the dungeons, and the mounds of homework she never did. How she managed to complete her studies was beyond him, but it was the only thing she'd asked for, and he couldn't refuse. Well, he could have, but Draco imagined the ire of his mother, and decided it was best to agree.

"I'm sure the dressmaker is used to a bride's lateness. Come on then, I do believe we're ready." Astoria dragged Hermione from the bedroom, and even Blaise grimaced.

The two witches were nearly identical. Blaise shook his head, trying to clear the sight from his eyes, but nothing seemed to work. Draco's chest constricted, his heart erratically pounding within his chest, and Harry simply rolled his eyes.

The tweed skirts, beige blouses, hideously ugly boots, all screamed Hermione Granger. The lengths of the skirts differed and the poise of the witches in question as well, but it didn't change Draco's feelings on the matter. Honestly, he felt a bit sick.

Draco couldn't help but to recall the wondrous afternoon spent in St. Mungo's. For a few minutes he actually wished were hours, he was almost convinced Tori was in fact Hermione Granger. She had draped herself around him just so, and kissed him in that tentative yet hungry manner Hermione once had.

He desperately clung to the murmured words she has whispered in his ear, even after Healer Greene had voiced his disappointments. Draco didn't give a rat's arse if some uppity Healer was perturbed at him for snogging his own bloody fiancée. It was obvious the man had designs on the witch, and while Draco didn't necessarily want Astoria, she was his just the same, and some irritating bastard wasn't going to change the facts.

"You're doing it again." Hermione whispered at his elbow, unsure if she should slip her hand into the crook of his elbow, or look to Blaise to escort her to the dressmaker.

"Does he do that often?" Astoria's fingertips lightly tapped Draco's forearm and he jerked away from her, as if her touch burned.

"I don't know actually. He's a bit averse to spending time with me, if it can be helped. I spend most of my days with Blaise, or surrounded by books, attempting to reverse this stupid spell." Hermione shrugged, twirling her wand as she willed the rains to ebb.

For some reason, she felt completely at home in the cozy space, and wished nothing more than to recline upon the chaise near the window with a good book, and a piping hot cup of tea. She knew such things were impossible, but she dared to dream. Anything was better than the cold, calculating glower of her intended.

"Would anyone care for a cup of tea before we head out?" Harry sighed, completely out of his depth.

"Merlin no, you're absolute shit at tea." Hermione interjected quickly, as it seemed Draco was willing to take the wizard up on his offer.

Three sets of eyes spun in her direction, and Hermione was positively certain she had said something untoward until Astoria began to laugh. The poor witch was nearly doubled in half, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Truer words were never spoken, Tori. Come on then, to the shops!" Astoria threaded her arm through Hermione's, thereby ending the other witch's dilemma, and stepped onto the small porch. She Apparated them away, without another word, leaving the men to their own devices.

"We best go then. There's no telling what those two are up too." Blaise grumbled unhappily and stepped into the frigid air with a scowl.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stomped through the foyer of his formidable home, with a scowl locked on his pale face. He crumpled the missive from the Greengrasses in a heavy fist before hurtling it into the fireplace of his study.

"The nerve!" He hissed, his grey eyes narrowing at the droplets of water splashing on the stone hearth.

"Lucius, you're making quite the mess aren't you? What seems to be the problem, darling?" Narcissa smiled slow and sweet, sipping the dark red wine in her crystal goblet.

Lucius grumbled, his steely eyes flicking toward her, and stopped. She really was quite the vision, despite her age. She didn't look a day over forty, and she was just as beautiful as the day he married her. He knew she thought him cruel at times, and he had to agree, but since the end of the War, he'd tried. He'd truly tried to be the man she deserved, though his stubbornness in regards to their only son continued to cause strife between them.

"Serafina is abjectly refusing to attend her daughter's nuptials. Can you imagine? It appears St. Mungo's had been unable to rectify the situation concerning her daughter's blood status, and she claims it would be entirely too humiliating to show her face." Lucius snarled angrily, his lip twitching in distaste.

Narcissa sighed, plucking a small piece of white lint from her classic black slacks in order to formulate a reply, which would not anger her husband further. She tapped her long manicured fingernails on her goblet, and sat upon the classically beautiful brocade settee, within her husband's line of sight. She sipped from her glass, swirling the dry liquid around her tongue, before swallowing and sighed.

"Byron is less disagreeable than his wife. You could learn from him. You don't see him tossing his weight about, attempting to coerce others, now do you? He's simply allowing his wife to bluster about and it's for the best really. It would be worse for them if they didn't attend." Narcissa patted her French twist, uncomfortable with her hair twisted upon her head, and blinked her long lashes.

"Cissa…it is imperative the wedding proceeds as planned. The Contract has been set since…"

"Lucius, I'm more than aware. There's no need to speak to me in such a manner. If you recall, I was against such a match considering our only son's affections…"

"Do. Not. Say. It." Lucius hissed with a ferocity Narcissa had not experienced in years, and she faltered. "I will not hear a word uttered where that poor excuse for a witch is concerned. It's her fault the plans have been delayed as long as they have. If I had my way, Draco and Astoria would be well on their way to providing a long awaited grandchild, but no, you had to allow him time." He waved his hand airily just before slamming his glass on the side table.

"Merlin forbid, the great Lucius Malfoy adhere to the words of anyone other than himself. Shall I bow before you as well? Would that be to your liking? Perhaps I can replace the house elves and lick your boots as well you pompous bastard." Narcissa Malfoy of the House Black, flung her wine glass at her husband's head with narrowed blue eyes, willing the dark red wine to spill over his pale hair.

Instead, he sidestepped the torrent with a gasp of indignation, completely appalled by his wife's behaviours. He gasped and sputtered, just the way she expected him to as she drew her wand. Lucius retreated toward the door, fumbling for own wand, yet it was too late. He was forced against the intricate blue wallpaper, the dark wood of Narcissa's wand imbedded in his throat.

"My love, there's no need to be hasty…" She did so love when Lucius Malfoy was reduced to stuttered words and smiled.

"Sit." She directed him toward the brocade settee he absolutely loathed, and while his jaw tightened, he did as she bade. "Did you know Hermione Granger isn't Muggle-born at all? I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I discovered the truth." Narcissa tucked her wand into the waistband of her slacks, running her fingers over the silk of her silver blouse.

"Nonsense. There's no need to defend the woman. She's of no account. Draco will marry Astoria three days hence, and all will be right in the world." Lucius crossed his arms, suddenly pleased with himself.

"Yes, it seems Langston, you do remember Langston, don't you dear?" Narcissa continued as if he hadn't spoken, which irritated him more than words could say.

"Langston Fawley? What of him? He'll be in attendance as well, considering his horrid little wife Tremaine is Serafina's sister."

"Hmm yes, that will be a sight to behold. Langston has always had an affinity for Muggles. I was taking tea with Andromeda, and she told me the most delicious little tale. If you speak against my sister, I will not hesitate to hex your bollocks. As I was saying, it seems Ted and Langston were close at one time, if you can imagine."

"I don't care. Ow! Did you just…strike me?" Lucius stared at his wife, absolutely positive the woman abusing him was not his wife, and some Polyjuiced imitation, as he rubbed the back of his head.

"You're quite rude. Regardless, Langston had quite the torrid affair with a Muggle woman. She was a troubled sort and fell pregnant. Langston had intended to end their relationship considering he had just been forced into an arranged marriage with Tremaine Avery…" Narcissa paused, allowing Lucius a moment to contemplate this newfound information.

"Are you honestly saying Langston Fawley has some…half-blood child wandering about the Wizarding World?" Lucius stroked his chin and closed his eyes. "Hermione Granger, that's the point of this, isn't it?"

"Well done."

"It changes nothing. If I wanted too, which I absolutely do not, Astoria wears the ring, I cannot void the Contract." Lucius Malfoy's hatred of a certain brunette Muggle-born witch waned slightly upon learning she wasn't quite so filthy.

"It changes everything!" Narcissa shrieked, her body shaking in order to restrain herself from physically attacking him. "You're the first to admit your objection to Ms. Granger has always been due to her blood. It's no longer an issue and he loves her. He loves her Lucius. She saved his life. Let him be happy. If you force this…he'll never forgive you and…neither will I."

It was a matter of principle more than anything. While Narcissa Malfoy was well aware of the fact Hermione Granger was going to wed her son, convincing Lucius it was necessary was imperative. She cringed, imaging the moment it all came to light. She fought down the bile creeping up her throat at the very thought of their Family Tree altering to write the words Hermione Granger in golden thread. The spell might have switched the witches, but magic always knows the truth.

"It is done." Lucius spat, slowly rising from the settee and stalking toward the exit.

"Remember this moment." Narcissa shook her head and turned from him, unable to abide the sight of him any longer.

* * *

Draco and Blaise trailed behind the two giggling witches, refusing to speak to each other. They snarled, shoving each other while they wandered down the cobblestone. Of course, the moment they were dragged into the dress shop, their anger at each other dissipated, projected instead toward the eerily similar witches.

"This is horrid. Why am I here?" Draco whispered to Blaise.

They were forced onto an uncomfortable sofa, their thighs pressed against each other. Their faces were locked somewhere between horror and confusion, even as they were handed glasses filled to the brim with brandy. They looked to each other rather than chancing a singular glance upon the endless rows of beads and lace.

"It's your own fault. You invited yourself." Blaise hissed, gulping his brandy quickly.

"I don't wish to look at dresses. Isn't it…bad luck or some other nonsense for me to see her dress?" Draco sounded ever so hopeful, Blaise couldn't help the barking laughter that filled the space.

"That's a Muggle superstition, good try though. Hurry up and drink. If we're lucky, we'll get completely pissed and they'll send us away. Oh bollocks, here they come. Veto that dress, quickly, it's hideous." Blaise pretended to gag, and even Hermione looked a bit green.

She teetered on ridiculously high stilettos, surrounded by feathers and beading. She could barely see over the plumage and constantly puffed out her breaths, in order to see where she was walking. Hermione stumbled and strangely enough, it was Draco there to catch her, before she tumbled headlong to the floor.

"Are you a bride or a bird?" He chuckled, thankful the brandy had eased some of his tension.

"Honestly? At this point, I'm not entirely sure. This is hideous." Hermione gestured toward the feathers, one hand firmly grasping Draco's forearm. "She's worse than Ginny and I didn't even know that was possible." She groaned, releasing him, not even realising what she had spoken.

"I wasn't aware you were friends with…Ginny Weasley." Draco still had difficulty speaking the witch's name, preferring to imagine she didn't exist.

"I'm not…am I?" Hermione frowned, catching a glance of her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked ready to burst into tears, and that was when Blaise stepped in.

"No, absolutely not. Who chose this monstrosity? You can't even see her! Ridiculous." Blaise guided Hermione by the elbow toward the dressing rooms, muttering about elegance and class.

The two brunette witches who had surreptitiously entered the shop, witnessed the exchange with thin lips firmly pressed together, and furrowed brows. They removed their heavy black cloaks and tossed them to the store clerk without a word before making their way toward a heavily confused Draco Malfoy.

"I can't believe Father is forcing us to do this." Daphne Greengrass squeezed her mother's elbow, pasting a smile on her face before greeting her younger sister's intended. "Draco, darling, how lovely to see you, it's been too long." She air kissed his cheek before presenting her mother. "You remember my mother, don't you?"

"Charmed." Serafina Greengrass limply offered her hand, allowing the Malfoy heir to ghost his lips across the back of her hand, before sitting in an overstuffed red armchair.

"Daphne, Mrs. Greengrass." Draco greeted then carefully. It was obvious they wished to be anywhere other than the overpriced dress shop, but he supposed even they were forced to adhere to the traditions. "Tori is sifting through the dress collection. I'm sure she'll be…there she is." He flinched, as the second dress was barely better than the first, though the Greengrass women seemed to adore it.

Hermione recognised the two women, and instantly stiffened. Draco had shoved enough photographs of her family under her nose, it would have been impossible not to know them on sight. It was Astoria's reaction that shocked her. It seemed the witch was struck dumb and held Hermione's hand tighter than necessary. As for Hermione, she was absolutely furious and despite the warning stemming from Blaise Zabini's suddenly clogged throat, she sneered.

"Ohh Astoria, that dress is absolutely flawless. I couldn't have picked a better dress myself." Daphne rushed forward and embraced her sister quickly.

"Why are you here?" Hermione removed Daphne from her person, her voice low, filled with warning.

"Astoria, don't be so disagreeable." Serafina sighed dramatically while inspecting her blood red fingernails, dismissing her daughter's wrath.

Draco backed away slowly, looking to Blaise, who only shrugged. Blaise had witnessed Hermione Granger's temper first hand. It wasn't something he ever wished to see again, yet he was also desperately curious as to how she would handle the tense situation with her faux family. Astoria on the other hand, had paled considerably, and Blaise was forced to step between the two in order to keep Draco from comforting her.

"Disagreeable? Disagreeable, really? You're pathetic. It's been almost two months and I haven't heard a word from either of you. You have the nerve to arrive days before my wedding and what? Expect me to welcome you with open arms? Isn't that absolutely ridiculous. You washed your hands of me and for what? Due to a magical error? I'm only worthy of being your daughter as long as I'm Pureblood. I haven't changed. I'm the same witch I've always been, but of course, blood status is the most important thing to ever exist. You'd think such prejudices had been dispelled along with Voldemort, but no, not my family. How dare you? I'm sure you wept into your abundantly full wine glasses how absolutely humiliating it is for you to be saddled with someone like me.

'You do realise the tests indicated Hermione Granger is a Pureblood witch. It's a simple deduction, but obviously your intelligence is entirely too lacking to come to the correct conclusion. I can't believe I'm even wasting my time explaining it to you. The results were switched you imbeciles. A common error, but it's much better to pretend I don't exist.

'I imagine it must have been so bloody difficult for you to lose a daughter. It wasn't difficult for me at all, no. I was simply thrust into living with a wizard that detests my existence, not to mention the fact I'm bound to marry him. I could have used the support of my family, but it seems I don't have one. Perhaps I never did. Perhaps it's better kept that way. Get out." Hermione flung her arm toward the door, showering the Greengrass women in dislodged beads.

"Tori…" Draco grasped her at the waist, restraining her as she surged forward, visions of ripping dark hair from the roots dancing in her eyes.

"No, don't. Don't you dare defend them, Malfoy." Hermione struggled and he held her tighter, turning her in his arms. She didn't cry, but she sniffed loudly, her brown eyes squeezed tightly shut against his throat.

"I think it would be best if you left." Draco carefully led his fiancée toward the back of the shop without another word.


	11. Kindness & Truths

**AN: Ok so I've proofread and edited this chapter to death...hopefully I've caught all the errors.**

 **As always...enjoy *kisses***

* * *

Kindness & Truths

* * *

Ron Weasley yanked on the collar of his dress robes, more than disgruntled with his attire. He was more than willing to attempt to please Hermione, but he still detested dress robes. The entire idea of attending The Greengrass-Malfoy wedding was completely absurd to him, but she was thrilled with the idea. He soothed himself by being thankful these robes weren't adorned with a hideous lace collar.

He avoided the garden of the Burrow, knowing the nasty little gnomes would take pleasure in decorating his clothing with mud or perhaps even feces. There was no telling of their mood. His mother's incessant need to have _him_ de-gnome the garden didn't help his relationship with them either.

"Aww poor Ronnikins is unhappy with his pretty new clothes." Fred laughed, chewing the end of a carrot, ducking as Ron lobbed a clump of grass at his head.

"This is all your fault. You convinced her it was a good idea! Why, why would you do that to me? I'm your brother." Ron moaned, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks, gasping in horror as the wet spots marred the crisp, clean lines.

"Exactly. You're my brother. Think of it this way, Lucius Malfoy is going to turn ten shades of red when he spies you and uh Hermione in attendance." Fred shook his hair off his forehead and crossed his arms with a smile of mischief.

"That's not helping at all!" Ron shoved passed his older brother, mumbling about his payment better be in the form of a naked witch in his bed.

"Hope you remember the Charm!" Fred called after him, more than content to watch the sun sink into the sky.

Fred snickered upon hearing Ron's garbled retort. Of course, Ron hurried back into the garden and grabbed his brother's plaid lapel, shaking him a bit. Fred gave him a quick once over, laughing to see the poor bloke completely disheveled. He wiggled his eyes with glee, picturing 'Hermione's' horror upon seeing the mess of Ronald Weasley.

"What Charm? What are you going on about?"

"Uh, the Protection Charm, I assumed you knew. I mean, unless your witch is utilising the Potion, you've got to use a Protection Charm, Ron." Fred shoved his brother, but not hard enough to send him tumbling, and shook his head.

"Protection from what?" Ron's cheeks were a delightful shade of pink, highlighting the freckles splashed across his face.

"Oh Merlin, you can't be this dense. Unless you'd enjoy seeing Hermione Granger all blown up with a Weasley, you'll learn the Charm posthaste." Fred rolled his eyes, almost positive Ron was taking the piss.

Ron gulped, his cheeks paling, and covered his face. He wasn't ready to be a father. Hell, he wasn't ready to be married either, but he thought it was what Hermione wanted. At least, he thought it was, before the accident. Ron honestly believed Hermione's discontent was from his inability to propose properly. She balked at the idea, but he was convinced she simply wanted him to work for it.

"I'm going to be sick." Ron mumbled, covering his mouth.

"Don't vomit on my shoes, Weasley. These are Italian leather." Blaise Zabini knocked into Ron's shoulder, causing the poor bloke to sprawl into the mud.

"Hermione's going to murder you." Fred chortled, leaving Ron to his own devices, and followed Blaise into the Burrow. "Wasn't expecting to see you today. Thought you'd be busy over at the Manor with Malfoy and whatnot."

Blaise marched straight to the kitchen and hovered over Molly's shoulder, inspecting yet another batch of her famous beef stew. He inhaled deeply and was inches away from snatching a potato when she elbowed him in the gut. She smiled prettily and waved her wooden spoon.

"No you don't. I've already beaten off George and Elliot. I'm not against beating you off as well." Molly wiped her hands on a tea towel, and returned to shucking the peas.

"Uhm…I can't…I just…" Blaise chortled, lost somewhere between extreme amusement and disgust.

"Zabini, you are _not_ thinking what I think you're thinking." Fred grimaced, refusing to even glance at his mother on the off chance visions of her beating off his twin invaded his mind.

Fred spun on his heel and immediately headed for his father's liquor cabinet, deftly freeing a bottle of Muggle spirits. He didn't bother to read the label, instead, spinning off the cap and gulping heavily. Blaise wrenched the bottle from his hands, still laughing, and set it back in the cabinet before Molly berated them.

"Does Molly beat you off as well, Fred?" Blaise was completely incapable of maintaining his composure, dissolving into yet another fit of giggles.

"Oi, I've beaten Fred off plenty. George, why are you laughing? This isn't a laughing matter!" Molly's head popped out of the kitchen, the lines in her forehead prominent as she glowered at the snickering wizards. Fred dragged Blaise up the narrowing stairs, toward his old room, unable to remain in his mother's presence for another moment.

He slammed the door behind them, warding it quickly and sprawled upon his childhood narrow bed, staring at the ceiling. He ignored Blaise until the tall tanned wizard had ceased his snickering. Fred sighed, propping his head on his elbows as he waited for Blaise to announce the reason for his visit.

"Alright so, I've spent the entire morning listening to Malfoy complain. Then I managed to slip in and see Hermione, or rather Tori, and damned is she a bloody mess. She keeps babbling about things that have happened to Hermione, and Cissa keeps shushing her. I'm pretty fucking sure everyone knows what's going on with these witches except for Draco and Hermione. Well, now that I think about it…Lucius can't possibly know, and your brother is an imbecile, so that's that." Blaise sat heavily on the edge of Fred's bed, completely unmindful of Fred's unease.

"Sounds hectic. What does any of this have to do with you being here? I thought you were the best man or some such."

"Yeah, I am. Malfoy has demanded I actually bring a date. He has declared it unseemly for me arrive stag, so you're coming with me." Blaise shrugged, standing quickly to pace the small space.

Fred sat up slowly, frowning. He wasn't entirely against attending the wedding. In fact, he'd been most intrigued by the idea, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fruit cake. Of course, that was a lie, but no one needed to know of his love of wedding fruit cake.

"Wouldn't you rather…take some willowy blonde witch who would be more than happy to tumble into bed with you at the end of the evening? It seems silly to waste an invite to the event of the year on me." Fred stood up suddenly, stretching his hands over his head and sighing.

His room felt very stuffy all of a sudden, and he moved to open the door, when a thick darkly tanned hand slapped the wood. Fred squirmed, nervously pulling on the collar of his plaid button down. Blaise sighed, more of a groan really, and mumbled something Fred didn't quite catch.

"What was that?" Fred glanced over his shoulder, aware of the close proximity of the taller wizard and shifted his weight between his feet.

"I'm an equal opportunity wizard, Weasley. Why limit myself?" Blaise winked, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips, and Fred Weasley blushed.

* * *

The sun was riding high in the sky when the pale blond wizard stepped from the steaming shower. Perfectly spherical water droplets clung to his chiseled form before sliding down his taut abdomen. Hastily, he wiped the steam from the mirror and inspected his face, specifically his eyes, and practiced keeping them completely devoid of emotion.

He reflected upon the unexpected conversation with his mother in the dress shop and scowled. He was still curious as to why she had arrived unannounced and completely taken Astoria under her wing. He recalled observing his mother whisk the distraught witch away, her tone of voice alerting him to the tongue-lashing he'd receive later.

She didn't disappoint, his mother never did.

"Draco. Your mother wishes a word." Lucius Malfoy's subdued voice and tentative knock, brought Draco hurtling back to the present.

"Send her in please." It was the most cordial he had been with his father since the demand of the arranged marriage.

Draco supposed today was the day for niceties if there ever was a time for such. He quickly draped a dressing gown around his shoulders, shoving his arms into the thick fleece just before his mother opened the door to his bedchamber. He watched her step into the room, a small smile gracing her nude lips while she admired the chamber of his youth. His eyes softened, as they often did where she was concerned, and any remnants of anger he felt toward his duty dissipated.

"Your godfather paid me a visit yesterday." Narcissa scrutinized her son from head to toe, her brows rising at the sight of his bare feet, before she settled into the black leather chair nearest the window.

"I don't know what he told you but I…"

"Draco." The singular word made Draco feel as if he were an errant child, caught with his fingers dipped in the honeypot. "Astoria has been having difficulties adjusting since her unfortunate accident. I know you're well aware of the changes in her personality, but that is no reason to treat her as you do. You are a Malfoy. We have always been bound by duty and in a few short hours, she is to be your wife and treated accordingly. I can't tell you how disappointed I was to hear of your short temper and biting words."

"What of her? Am I the only culpable party in this matter? She bloody slapped me! Am I to do nothing in the face of such abuse?" Draco tossed his hands in the air and stalked to his closet, rifling through his wardrobe for the appropriate robes.

Narcissa clucked her tongue, drawing the heavy silver draperies open to gaze down upon her prize rose garden. She couldn't risk informing Draco of the truth. He would immediately confront his father, and that in and of itself, would be disastrous for all of them. Instead, she was forced to carefully formulate her words and plant ideas in her son's head, in a most Slytherin manner.

"Did your father ever tell you I chose your bride?" A furtive glance in her direction informed Narcissa she now held his attentions.

"You did this to me?" Draco whispered, sitting hard on the edge of his four-poster bed, wiping his hand across his face in disbelief.

"Did I ever tell you of my time with the Order? Of course I didn't, when everything was said and done, your father decreed there was no need to discuss such unpleasantness." She snapped her fingers, and one of the many Malfoy elves presented her with a silver tray laden with tea service, silently pouring, stirring, and nodding before leaving. "I had an inkling, I suppose you could say, but it wasn't until you forced me away did I realise the depths of your feelings for her." Narcissa dropped a cube of sugar into her tea, sipping delicately, her cool blue eyes still focused on the menagerie of colours beneath her. "I was there, you realise, when she shouted, and even berated Harry Potter for leaving you behind. If her wand hadn't been confiscated, well, I hate to think what would have happened to her upon her return to the Manor."

Draco swallowed hard, his gaze locked onto the delicate swirling pattern of the dark carpet. Anything was better than allowing his mother to see the truth in his eyes. He thought he'd hidden it well enough, but there were always moments, moments of weakness, and they were his greatest downfall.

"Your father wished to align with the Parkinson family, but I, I chose Astoria Greengrass. She's young. She's talented. She's malleable and, she bears quite the resemblance to the witch that holds your heart. Don't try to deny it. I know you, Draco. You might be capable of deceiving yourself, but I'm your mother. The accident has changed her. She might never return to the witch you once knew. I wish for you to be kind to her. Do not treat her the way your father once treated you. Be better than that, my son." Narcissa vacated the leather chair and with a gentle pat to her son's cheek, left him to his own devices.

If it had been anyone else, Draco would have railed against the words, despite their truths, but it was his mother. He immediately wanted to go to his father and complain, but that would only spell trouble for his mother, and he couldn't do that to her, not again. He had wasted enough time of his youth disparaging his mother to his father, and to what end? It had only spelled disaster for the Malfoy family upon his father's rededication to the Dark Lord. Though, the beast of a wizard was gone, the scars remained.

Instead, Draco hastily pulled on a slate blue jumper and a pair of beige slacks and ventured from his bedchamber. He wandered his wing carefully, avoiding the tittering witches and even the house elves. When he came across the rooms assigned to Astoria, Draco didn't knock, he simply twisted the handle and entered, locking the door behind him.

Hermione Granger sat in the window seat, tightly wrapped in a plush pink towel, her dark hair wet and clinging to her back, while she watched the servants and elves prepare for the ceremony and feast. Her arms were wrapped around her waist and upon first glance, one would think she was intent upon keeping the towel aloft, but Draco knew better. It was something he had observed many times in the passing weeks, it seemed she was filled with as much trepidation as he.

He crept into the room silently, so as not to alert her, watching the way she nibbled the corner of her lip, and pushed her wet hair from her cheek. His mother was right, she was different, and in all the ways, he wished she weren't. There were moments when she reminded him so much of the witch he craved, it physically hurt.

Perhaps it was the effects of the spell, he reasoned. It wasn't a completely far-fetched idea that whatever affected their memory, affected their mannerisms as well. Draco contemplated the idea of their memories blending together until neither was discernable any longer and strangely, it brought him comfort.

He hadn't realised he had moved so closely to her, until his hand was hovering over her bare shoulder and she was gasping at his proximity. Hermione jumped, with a slight squeal, escaping the window seat quickly. Draco appreciated the long lines of her muscled calves and smirked.

"You scared me! What are you doing here?" Hermione tugged the towel, attempting to cover her knees, which only gifted Draco with a glorious sight of her impressive cleavage. It had been years since he'd seen Astoria in such a fashion and honestly, he couldn't remember her breasts being so alluring. "Stop staring at me. What do you want?"

"Are you afraid of me?" Draco stepped forward, even as she stepped back, the blush of her cheeks spreading across her throat and down her chest.

"Don't be ridiculous." Hermione rolled her eyes, scoffing, wincing as the pounding behind her eyes began.

Her golden brown eyes flecked with bits of green flickered, and she was caught between then and now, wavering on her feet. She wasn't aware of strong, muscled arms catching her about the waist, holding her close. It was better if she didn't fight against it, she had learned that much.

" _I know I shouldn't have called him a coward."  
"No, you shouldn't." said Ron at once.  
"But he's acting like one."  
"All the same…" said Hermione._

" _I know," said Harry. "But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it'll be worth it, won't it?"_

 _Draco Malfoy carefully observed the Golden Trio, more than aware of the tension. It was obvious Harry was incapable of keeping the plea out of his voice and Hermione looked downright sympathetic. Ron uncertain. While Harry looked down at his feet, Draco set the kettle on the cooker._

 _The silent kitchen seemed to hum with the shock of the recent scene, and Draco knew Hermione was having difficulty biting her tongue. She moved beside him, yanking chipped mugs from the cupboards, stopping short of slamming them onto the counter. His fingers inadvertently grazed hers, and she jumped._

" _Are you afraid of me?" Draco studied the uncertainty in her eyes, refusing to drop his eyes, honestly curious._

" _Don't be ridiculous." Hermione scoffed, tucking soft, yet bushy curls behind her ear as she measured the old tea leaves into the mugs._

" _Are you sure, Granger? You never know, I could be a dangerous Death Eater planning on turning the lot of you in…" He smirked then, looking over her head to see Harry Potter studying the Daily Prophet._

" _You could have done that ages ago if that was your plan." Hermione paused, their shoulders lightly brushing and covering his hand with her own for a scant moment. "I can't speak for the others, but, I trust you."_

"And she's back." Draco's fingers brushed across her forehead while her eyelashes fluttered.

"I wasn't gone. I was simply…having a moment. What are you doing?" Hermione squealed, realising she was in a most compromising position, completely draped across Draco Malfoy's lap, in a towel no less.

"I couldn't very well allow you to crumble to the floor. My father would have our heads if anything were to delay the ceremony further. You've got to admit, we really have put it off." Draco braced his arm across the small of her back and eased her into a sitting position.

Of course, the towel slipped, but he wasn't about to inform her. He was quite enjoying the view of alabaster mounds, and the barest hint of blush peaks. His fingers dug into her hip harder than he intended and she gasped, following his line of sight.

"Stop it!"

"Oh come on, Tori. It isn't as if I've never seen it before, and in a few hours we'll be married, and I'll see all of you." Draco teased the edge of her towel, tugging slightly, quite prepared to unwrap his present.

"You don't even like me!" Hermione shoved against his chest, but Draco was lightning fast, thanks to his Seeker skills. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her pink towel, kneading a tightly clamped thigh.

"Who cares? You don't like me either, but that's not stopping your body from responding, now is it?" Draco smirked pointedly at her now exposed breast, the dusky peak rigid, begging for attentions he was most willing to pay.

"Don't, Malfoy. Please don't. I know you've told me of…our…experiences at Hogwarts, but I don't remember them. I keep having these flashes of memories, but if I concentrate, they disappear. I don't know why you're here, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I don't hate you, I don't know how to feel really, well, besides the raging confusion. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't add to it, at least not now." Draco rolled his eyes dramatically, but didn't stop her from covering herself.

"Fine, what's a few hours anyway." He set her on her feet and left her rooms, without the barest hint of a backward glance, as Hermione released a shuddered sigh.

* * *

Langston Fawley chewed his cheek, filled with impatience while he waited for his wife to ready herself. He wasn't looking forward to spending his afternoon with the Malfoys, but sadly, there wasn't much choice in the matter of family. His wavy dark hair refused to cooperate, curling around his ears. He sighed, sipping a butterbeer in the foyer.

"Dad! Aunt Daphne is losing her mind." Sullivan Fawley laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

He wasn't nearly as tall as his father, but he still managed to tower over his mother. He had inherited his father's light eyes and dark hair, though Tremaine was quick to attribute his looks to anyone other than his father. It didn't bother Langston in the least. Sullivan was the bright spot of a dreary day.

Tremaine refused to speak of his studies at Hogwarts, but that had more to do with his House than anything else. The fact her only son had been Sorted into Hufflepuff was a source of contention for the Slytherin. She had ranted and railed against the old hat, thoroughly convinced it was trying to humiliate her.

"Yes, well, Slytherin's do have a penchant for the dramatics." Langston smiled at his son, ruffling the boy's hair.

"Ya I know, you've told me loads of times. Dad, Aunt Daphne…why do I have to call her Aunt if she's my cousin?" Langston arched a singular eyebrow at his son, over his butterbeer, and Sullivan nodded. "Ok fine, that's a question for mum, which means I'll never know. Right then. Anyway. It seems Astoria invited the Golden Trio to the wedding, and Daphne is fit to have a case of the vapors." Sullivan laughed, positively gleeful.

Contrary to his Hufflepuff nature, his favourite moments were when Daphne would shout for hours on end about Hermione Granger. He didn't understand what the fuss was all about really. He was much too young to remember much of her while they attended Hogwarts and his mother had shielded him from anything she considered nefarious, which was frankly…everything. Sullivan barely had memories of his father in his youth, as Tremaine had banished him from the family home for more than a few years. He never quite understood why, and wasn't apt to delve into his father's secrets.

"Are you sure you're Hufflepuff?" Langston drained his butterbeer, and carefully arranged the paisley ascot his wife had insisted upon.

"Are you sure you were Ravenclaw? I mean, you don't seem all that intelligent." Sullivan knocked into his father's side. "Come on then, you know mum will rail for hours if we're late."

"She's taken half the day to chose a dress, but yes, let's hurry now that she's finally ready. I swear…" Langston shook his head, tossing his arm around his son's shoulders, and braced himself for the event of the season.

"Don't tell mum or anything, but I'm quite excited to meet her. Hermione Granger, I mean. She was hailed the brightest witch of the age, but after the War, she just sort of disappeared. I mean, people still speak of her, but you never see her in the Daily Prophet anymore. Of course, lately it's just been filled with pictures of Astoria and Draco, but even so. It must have been so exciting to fight in a war." Sullivan's blue eyes sparkled with such excitement, Langston wasn't one to quash it.

He rarely spoke of the War, refusing to inform his son of his part in it. Truthfully, he never chose a side, and in his mind, that was worse than fighting for Voldemort. Strangely, he envied those who _had_ chosen a side. Langston had adhered to his father's wishes, well, some of them at least, and remained far from the strife and fighting. Such traditions were instilled during the First Wizarding War, and continued after he had reached adulthood.

"We're late, Langston." Tremaine growled, refusing the offered arm as she marched toward the Apparition point, her pointed Pureblood nose high in the air.

"Yes, can't imagine whose fault that would be." He shared a conspiratorial grin with his son, and the Fawleys were off.

They landed near the white tents billowing with the winter chill, thankful the Malfoys had adjusted the wards for their guests. Tremaine didn't pause for her husband, instead hurrying toward the warmed tents, in desperate search of her sister. She bumped into a horribly freckled wizard and sneered, refusing his muttered, half-hearted apology.

"I don't like it. I don't like it one bit, Jeannie." Ron Weasley tugged on the sleeves of his dress robes, rubbing the sore spot on his ribs due to Tremaine Fawley's knobby elbow.

"You're not supposed to like it. Don't you know anything at all? I mean, your family _is_ part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you'd think you'd know of the traditions." Astoria Greengrass smiled politely, nodding with thinly veiled animosity toward the Malfoy's guests, her arm strung through Ron's.

"Yeah, well, it's not like we exactly celebrate it. You know as much as I do…I mean, you used to know…I mean, we just don't see the point in upholding the old traditions. The world is a different place, and we'd much rather associate with everyone than a hand picked selection." Ron smiled, quite pleased with himself, and promptly walked straight into Langston Fawley.

"Well said, young man, though the same can't be said for your ability to walk and talk." Langston tucked an irritating curl behind his ear, and smiled at the blushing wizard.

"Fantastic. It seems there's more of your kind here than mine. I think I'm going to head to the bar. I think I've spotted Fred and Zabini, that could be interesting." Ron pecked Astoria's cheek, and left her to flounder with the tall, dark haired wizard.

"He seems a bit out of sorts, and manners as well. I'm Langston Fawley, this here is my son, Sullivan." Astoria gulped audibly, silently cursing.

She'd rummaged through the box Hermione had retrieved from beneath the bed. She'd learned all sorts of sordid secrets. The sort of secrets that could and probably would, bring certain families to their knees. Astoria wished she'd never been curious and rifled through the papers, but it was too late now. She never expected to be face to face with Hermione Granger's biological father, and yet here she was.

"Pleasure. I'm Hermione…Hermione Granger, but you can call me Jeannie. I prefer it actually." She curtsied shortly, and offered her hand as she stared into his crystal clear blue eyes.

Langston faltered for a moment, positive he was mistaken. He couldn't have heard her correctly. This witch wasn't the Hermione Granger he had grown accustomed to seeing decorating the cover of The Daily Prophet. This witch wasn't a bushy haired, buck toothed, golden brunette. This witch reminded him of someone he'd spent a lifetime attempting to forget.

Astoria turned to a timid Sullivan and offered her hand, smiling slightly. She was uncomfortable, and planned to torture Ron in various and delicious ways once she discovered his hiding place. Sullivan, on the other hand, was enamored.

"You're different." He sputtered, his eyes widening in absolute horror, until she laughed.

"Yes, I suppose I am. I, well, I decided it was best to return to my natural state. My parents passed away, and my appearance was more for them than for me. There wasn't a need to keep it any longer, but that's a secret Sullivan, so let's just keep that between us, yeah?" Sullivan's plump lips fell open, and it took his father's finger under his chin for him to regain his bearing.

"Your parents were Muggles weren't they? I didn't know there were Muggle…ways…to alter one's appearance." Astoria laughed, a light musical sort of sound and threaded her arm through the younger wizards.

"Yes well, there's all sorts of things Muggles are capable of doing. It would surprise you really. However, now isn't the time for such things. If you behave yourself, perhaps I'll even tell you the glorious story of my birth parents. It's not public knowledge, but you look like the sort capable of keeping a secret. Don't prove me wrong." Astoria was always terrible when it came to keeping secrets. Her House knew to never tell her anything of substance, especially if they didn't wish the Professors to know, and nothing had changed.

"Birth parents?" Langston interjected, his neck feeling particularly hot. He grasped her elbow, studying her face carefully and drew a slow breath. "Tell me then, who was your mother?" Sullivan's gaze flitted between his father and Hermione Granger, and while he knew something was amiss, his naivety kept him from discovering the hidden truths.

"She was no one of consequence apparently, just a Muggle. Stella, Stella Bagley. Why? Does it mean something to you?" Astoria's voice lowered significantly, taciturn and decidedly frigid.

She didn't wait for a reply, instead pecking Sullivan's cheek, and hurrying toward a nervous looking Ron Weasley whose head kept whipping between his older brother and Blaise Zabini. She had half a mind to drag Blaise to the shrubbery and confess her wrong doings, but the Malfoy house elves were clapping their little hands, directing the guests toward the largest tent. It seemed the ceremony was about to begin.

* * *

Hermione greedily gulped the ice cold water provided by Narcissa and allowed the older witch to smooth her brow. She patted her curled dark hair, wondering how the stylist had managed to pile it on her head so prettily. She fingered the diamond pendant at her throat, appreciating the pearls against her skin, pleased by the simple gift Draco had provided.

"You'll be fine, my dear. After all, I've barred your mother from entering the room, your older sister is busy clutching at her husband, and the guests are being seated as we speak." Narcissa smiled kindly at the nervous witch, pleased with the ice blue dress she had chosen.

It held to tradition, which was important to her husband, yet it wasn't remotely similar to anything the true Astoria Greengrass would deign to wear. It was simple in its design, yet elegant. The ruched one shoulder gown draped, clinging to the witch's curves, accentuating and minimizing as was necessary, until it brushed the floor. The modest neckline was decorated in shimmering crystals, tapering off as they reached the drop waist, until only the skirts were smattered with pearls, which glinted in the sunset.

"I can't do this. This is madness. You do realise this is absolutely barbaric. I mean to subject a witch to a binding contract without her consent is practically medieval." Narcissa pursed her lips, more to hide her amusement than in disagreeance, and patted the poor girl's clenched fist.

"Yes, well, let it never be said Wizarding Kind is behind the times." Narcissa winked, showing Hermione a glimpse of her humour. "Perhaps we're simply in dire need of a brilliant witch to herd us into the current century. Come along dear, they're waiting."


	12. Promises & Recollections

**AN: Alright! It's been forever & a day, sorry about that. Adulting is completely overrated, but most of the difficult things are finished. Never move. Never attempt to survive without internet or at least a really good cell signal. It was akin to hell.**

 **As always...enjoy *kisses***

* * *

Promises & Recollections

* * *

Draco Malfoy greedily gulped yet another flute of champagne before his father smacked him about the head. He choked, glowered, and refilled his flute just the same. It seemed the Malfoy men were at a standstill. Neither wished to address the issues of the other and instead, sneered at each other and remained silent.

Personally, Lucius wasn't apt to understand his son's angst. Astoria was a perfectly lovely witch, and it was high time Draco appreciated his mother's choice. He supposed Astoria was a better choice than Pansy, and shuddered at the thought.

Of course, the Parkinsons were less than cordial the moment Lucius ceased talks with the Pureblood family, not that he could blame then. He was well aware of the fact his son was in high demand, and it had always been assumed the Malfoys and Parkinsons would blend together in a perfect swirl of Pureblood supremacy.

He wasn't against the idea necessarily, but Pansy wasn't what he would call the most beautiful, or even most intelligent witch he'd ever encountered. Lucius had been cornered by her at many an event, her lascivious promises often left a bad taste in his mouth. Therefore, when Narcissa had approached him and suggested the younger, prettier Astoria Greengrass, he had acquiesced, despite her resemblance to one particular thorn in his side.

"Are you prepared to do your duty?" Lucius finally broke the silence between them, assuming his son was filled with trepidation toward his impending marriage.

"Yes Father, aren't I always?" Draco kept his back to his father, the bitterness in his voice palpable even as he stared down into the gardens.

"I remember a time when you…"

"Don't. I will not apologise for my choices during the War, just as I have never expected you to recant your notions. If I hadn't done what I did, I'm sure you would be rotting in Azkaban, and I would be free from my duties, it's almost a shame really." Draco glared over his shoulder, pleased to see shock in his father's narrowed grey eyes.

"This is about that Mudblood. You honestly believe she would have you? Son of an acclaimed Death Eater, not to mention a traitor to his family, and a coward, over the likes of…" Lucius paused, suddenly recalling the brunette witch in question was dedicated to a blood traitor, and a Weasley as well.

"She saved my life. I saved hers. Our life debt never had anything to do with our relationship anyway. It is quite lovely to discover exactly what my father thinks of me. At least I shan't have to wonder any longer." With that, Draco flung his flute into the fireplace and vacated the now stifling lounge.

* * *

Hermione's knees shook as Narcissa covered her shoulders with an ivory fur wrap and led her down the long corridor. The only sound to be heard was Hermione's silver heels clipping along the stone as they descended the stairs. Neither made mention of her stilted breaths and trembling fingers, as it would have been unseemly.

"Ms. Greengrass, you are a sight to behold." Lucius smiled kindly, pleased to see Astoria was not flouting one of those ridiculous white dresses covered in feathers.

He would have preferred a ball gown, but he could accept her choices, for now. Lucius knew it was only a matter of time before the young witch was groomed into the perfect Pureblood wife. He expected Narcissa was well on her way to persuading the girl to relinquish her silly ideals of a career and begin procreating as soon as possible. He might have failed to raise his son in the proper manner, allowing the boy to disregard their heritage, but he wouldn't make the same mistakes with his grandson.

"Pay him no mind, my dear. Lucius is simply overcome with the idea of grandchildren befitting his family name. Now isn't the time for such things."

"Ch-children? I-I'm not ready to be intimate with…with Draco, let alone consider children." Hermione fingered the pearls at her throat, hesitantly whispering to the blonde witch that would become her mother-in-law in less than an hour.

The corner of Narcissa's lip raised in ire, not directed toward Astoria, but toward her husband. Lucius had enough sense to turn his attentions to Byron Greengrass, who was waiting to escort his daughter to her wedding, with a bit of a bored expression on his paunchy face.

"Has the solicitor not come to see you then? Have you not read the Betrothal Contract?" Narcissa smoothed the ice blue dress, whispering little incantations to erase the wrinkles from sitting.

Hermione whipped her head so quickly, her spiral curls flung into the Matriarch's face, gasping.

"I haven't had a chance really, not with all the…" Hermione floundered, wondering what sort of mess she was walking into, but Narcissa patted her shoulder and continued attending to the gown.

Hermione attempted to calm, thankful for Narcissa. She appreciated the woman's aid in choosing a gown, and smoothing over the difficult moments with her family. The gown truly was lovely and embodied everything she'd ever wanted.

There were moments, always there were moments, when she closed her eyes and was transported to the place she referred to as 'Elsewhere'. The flashing pictures hardly ever made sense, but every so often a word or a phrase sent her headlong into what could only be called a memory. They confused her and angered her more than anything, but they were also a constant reminder that she hadn't the slightest idea who she truly was.

When Hermione closed her eyes, fingering the pearls out of a nervous habit, she could clearly see herself seated in a bistro across from…well herself. It didn't make sense, and the conversation was muted, until she heard the words 'Betrothal Contract'. The pictures flipped quickly, faster, and faster, until it was difficult for her to draw a proper breath.

A brunette witch seated across from her in a small café. The carefully lined plum lips. The light lilting laughter. Petite fingers wrapped around cucumber sandwiches. Desperate whispers and cold hands. Blaise Zabini and his belly laughs, squeezing her tight. Until finally…it was nothing more than Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy in moments of tense silences and furtive looks.

"I'm her and she's me." Hermione gagged on the words, struggling to remain upright, while pale fingers dug into her forearm.

"You mustn't say another word." Narcissa shook her, springing the witch's hair free from its careful up-do, her red lips stretching into a smile as a few straggling guests gazed upon them curiously.

"What do you mean? We've got to tell someone. Everything is wrong." The hysteria was slowly rising and Narcissa quickly dragged the confused witch into the nearest lavatory, spelling the room impenetrable.

"Do you remember?" Narcissa released Hermione and crossed her arms, surveying her carefully, prepared to spell the girl into submission if necessary.

"I-I'm not sure. Everything is still muddled, but…"

"Good. We'll delve into such things further after the wedding. We haven't the time now. I'm sure Lucius is already irritated with our delay. Come along then." Narcissa gently guided the witch to the door, fussing with her hair. "I do believe your hair looks much better down."

"What do you _mean_ we haven't the time? I can't marry him, especially since I've good to reason to believe I _am not_ Astoria and…" Hermione stumbled in her silver heels, her fingers leaving damp impressions on the ice blue silk between her fingers.

"You wear the Malfoy family ring. It no longer matters who you are, you will be my son's bride. Do not make me jinx you." Narcissa's blue eyes softened, and for a moment, Hermione believed she saw the slightest trace of sympathy in her eyes, but then it was gone.

"What of Malfoy? Is he aware? I mean, surely he must know…" Hermione thrust her shoulders back, positive even Draco Malfoy wouldn't allow this travesty to continue.

"My dear, you'd be surprised how much my son doesn't know."

* * *

Langston Fawley was busy watching the brunette witch with the red haired wizard, and missed much of the conversations around him. He couldn't help it really, nor did he want too. Poor Sullivan was quickly aware of the fact his father was distracted, and sought out the company of his peers.

"Can you believe the Malfoys have a Mudblood and a Blood Traitor at their only son's nuptials? It is positively unseemly." Tremaine sniffed, throwing a pointed glare in 'Hermione's' direction.

To her credit, 'Hermione' smiled grandly, and even managed a small wave before bestowing a sweet kiss upon Ron Weasley's freckled cheek. Tremaine grunted and spun on her black peep toed heel toward more appealing guests. Langston, on the other hand, returned the wave with the barest hint of a smile.

It wasn't long after, when the throngs of guests were directed toward the largest white silk tent, and they carefully took their seats to await the ceremony. Langston was highly disgruntled to discover he was seated between his wife and Serafina, wishing nothing more than a reprieve from the Avery sisters.

He was the sort of wizard that freely admitted the hatred he harboured toward his wife. Langston often lamented bending to his father's will, wishing instead he had run off, much the way Andromeda Black had, and married the Muggle he loved. Instead, he had fallen victim, much the way Draco Malfoy had, to his family's sense of honour and obligation, disguised as duty.

Langston's wry grin was directed toward the stiff back of the young Malfoy and he remembered the day he married Tremaine. She had been a pretty bride, but that was never the issue. He couldn't force his heart to forget the beautiful Muggle that had completely enamored him.

It didn't escape his attention the way the young Malfoy's gaze wandered perilously close to Hermione Granger. Langston wondered if Lucius was aware of his son's obvious affections. Of course, a singular glance at the Patriarch's sneer exuded the truth, which amused Langston to no end.

"What is he doing?" Serafina hissed, jabbing her elbow into Langston's side.

"It seems he's eying the pretty witch just over there." Langston winced, subtly rubbing his now sore rib, yet completely unable to quell the snort of laughter. He coughed delicately, hoping it appeased his wife and sister-in-law, though from their simultaneous glowers, Langston knew he had failed.

He observed the bride slowly walking down the aisle on the arm of her father, fear in her eyes, and he sympathised with her. The wedding was overly traditional, as the groom never once turned to glance upon his bride. Langston didn't turn toward the bridesmaids following after Astoria, paying them absolutely no mind. He was certain his niece Daphne was looking quite smug and as for the others, well, they were barely worth a mention. Langston was waiting for Draco Malfoy to look upon the stunning witch nervously standing beside him, and then the moment was upon him.

"Merlin." Draco breathed, taking in the loose curls haphazardly falling down Astoria's back, her bright brown eyes wide, her lips plump and pink.

Originally, his goal was to stare at his godfather and even close his eyes when he was forced to kiss her. Blaise, on the other hand, had completely different ideas and jabbed him until he acquiesced. He hadn't expected the stunning sight before him.

Frankly, he assumed Daphne and Serafina would dress Astoria in some ridiculous, overly beaded monstrosity, complete with feathers. Gods knew how those witches adored bloody feathers. Instead, Draco could see the subtle hand of his mother.

The beading was appropriate, but not overdone, actually quite tasteful. The dress wasn't some Americanised notion of blinding white ball gowns, Draco was pleased to see it hugged Astoria's curves and the shade of blue brought out the flecks of green in her eyes. He didn't recall her having flecks of green in her eyes, but he was otherwise distracted.

Of course, Astoria barely glanced in his direction, which only added to Draco's displeasure. He was pleased however, to see her lips part in obvious shock as she gazed upon the wizard proceeding over their nuptials. Draco was curious to see a spark of recognition in her eyes, even from his vantage point.

"P-Professor…Snape?" Draco smirked, only to receive a particularly scathing look from his father, yet it didn't deter him.

"Obviously." The tall dark haired wizard with the slightly hooked nose, blinked in boredom, highly displeased to be allotted such a task as this. His obsidian eyes showed no emotion and without further ado, he segued into the ceremony.

Hermione Granger's fingers shook as she listened to the monotonous words, and delicately placed her forearm on top of Draco's. She wasn't yet comfortable being in such close proximity to him, and knew it would only get worse from here. She watched Professor Snape's lips move, and barely heard the words promising love and devotion for all of her days.

Quite honestly, she was confused. She vacillated between the idea of being Hermione Granger and Astoria Greengrass, almost Malfoy, and her stomach churned in protest. Draco's hand was cool to the touch, and for some reason it grounded her. She blinked constantly, trying to focus, but the images were wrecking havoc.

They rippled, like the waves lapping the shore of her eyelids, in no particular order, without rhyme or reason, and making sense of them was impossible. Hermione knew she needed to write down what she was seeing. She needed to find some order. She needed to discover exactly who she was, but suddenly Draco Malfoy was slipping a jeweled band onto her finger, and Professor Snape was looking at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione stammered, suddenly aware of a rigid Draco Malfoy squeezing her hand just a bit too tightly.

"This is the part where you give your answer, Tori." Draco hissed, leaning to the side, his breath whispering against her ear.

"I will." Hermione guessed it was the correct reply, upon the sharp nod of her former Professor.

"Wonderful." Severus Snape spoke the word in such a way, there was no doubt he meant anything other than wonderful, but the guests smiled just the same. "Draco, if you will."

"You're joking." Draco scoffed with a hint of laughter, yet it died in his throat.

Professor Severus Snape sniffed in his haughty manner and simply waited. The guests began murmuring quietly, but as they were refined witches and wizards, their voices never rose above a slight whisper. Draco curled his lip, slowly turning on his heel to face his bride.

"What…what are you doing?" Hermione subconsciously gnawed the corner of her lip, and even Professor Snape's eyebrows rose at the uncustomary action.

Draco didn't answer her, instead he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He was quite pleased with himself, until he caught sigh of Astoria's bottom lip caught between her teeth. He could hear his father's voice in his head, ' _do better_ ' and when Severus cleared his throat with displeasure, Draco surged forward.

His long fingers tangled in the silky curls at the base of her neck. His other hand was delicately placed at her waist, with just the slightest hint of pressure. Draco lightly kissed the corner of her mouth, causing her to gasp and release her lip.

Hermione wasn't sure of the proper course of action. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to slap his pompous little face, but on the other hand, his lips were so soft, nothing else mattered. She closed her eyes, her fingertips grazing the lapel of Draco's dress robes, until she fisted them.

Draco didn't know what had possessed him, he'd never given Astoria anything more than a light peck, even during the throes of hormone driven passions. However, from the first taste of her lips, there was that air of familiarity that had absolutely nothing to do with Astoria. Draco wanted to hold onto it as long as possible, even as his tongue segued passed her lips, tasting her.

Hermione could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath her fist and it exhilarated her. Considering she couldn't recall her first kiss, she was pleased to discover she retained some skill. Her head moved of its own accord, her lips plumping as his teeth scraped across them. Hermione wondered if this was what heaven felt like, when they were interrupted by less than subtle throat clearing.

"By the grace of Merlin, and whoever else decided forced matrimony was the proper course of events…I am almost pleased to present to you…Draco and whoever she is, oh, I do apologise." There was almost a smile on the tall Professor's lips before he continued, "Draco and Astoria Malfoy."

The guests, as for their parts, stood, and smiled at the couple, ignoring the displeased glower upon the face of the groom's father. It seemed he was less than pleased over his son's blatant display of public affection. His wife, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

Narcissa clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the throng of confused guests.

"Come then, there are refreshments in the green tent. By all means, help yourselves, the house elves are at your disposal." She smiled brightly, and the bridesmaids, handpicked by Serafina, scurried down the aisle, a thorough swish to their hips, and whispers of wine on their lips.

It was unusual, but not unheard of, for the bride and groom to remain behind. Lucius appreciated the way his wife took charge in the face of confusion. He remained behind to observe the magical signing of the documents.

It was a simple matter, really. The couple only needed to apply their wands to the parchment. Narcissa distracted her husband with a soft kiss on his cheek, surprising him. Lucius Malfoy's hard eyes softened and he embraced her, missing the knowing glint and snort of amusement stemming from Severus Snape.

Draco Malfoy quickly thrust his wand against the parchment and before the swirl of magic was complete, he had turned on his heel. He stared over the guests, searching for Hermione Granger, only to see her in the arms of Ron Weasley. It was Blaise who drew his attention with a slow shake of his head.

"Let it go mate. Perhaps it would be best if you considered your wife. She's not all that bad since the accident. I like her, you might too." Blaise clapped his mate on the back and ambled down the aisle, his eyes set on a particularly tall, red haired wizard.

Hermione tapped her wand to the parchment, fascinated by the swirling bits of magic licking the page. Professor Snape was much more interested in observing her reactions than the letters scrawling across the parchment. As much as he had always detested the little Muggle-born witch, he wasn't one to deny her talent.

She was quite brilliant, and he knew it was only a matter of time before all her memories returned. Severus sighed lightly, resentfully enjoying her wonder. He knew the moment she spied the words upon the parchment, and quickly plucked it from her grasp. He held a finger to his lips in silent warning, yet it was obvious she was preoccupied and perhaps even shocked by the outcome.

Severus Snape didn't have a chance to whisk the poor girl away and warn her of the dangers. Draco Malfoy yanked on her wrist, pulling her to his side, and then she was gone. The Professor's dark eyes slid to the conniving Matriarch, and he nodded ever so slightly before spinning on his heel. His black robes billowed out behind him, and it wasn't long before he was deep in his cups.

Hermione Malfoy dutifully followed her new husband, her thoughts quickly browsing every remnant of memory she could cling too. She grit her teeth, yet smiled at the guests, most of whom she couldn't recall seeing before. Draco seated her in a polite fashion, but his heart wasn't in it. Hermione was surprised to see his eyes constantly strayed over the guests, and it was obvious he was searching for someone. She wondered how many witches ached to be in her place, and how many of them he was currently shagging.

"If you're going to moon over her, you might as well go and speak with her. It's much better than sitting here watching you sulk." She rolled her eyes, perusing the guests for a familiar face. Her heart clenched when she witnessed Ronald Weasley seated beside, well, herself really, smiling, with his arm slung behind her chair.

Draco wanted to snap at her. He held the biting retort on his tongue, his shoulders sagging. She looked happy and he couldn't ask for more than that. He'd never openly told her his feelings on the matter. Hell, he'd barely admitted them to himself. He couldn't expect her to wait for him forever and besides, now he had a wife. It would be most unsuitable to spend his wedding day doting on any other witch beside his wife.

"Jealous, pet?" He utilised a soft, lilting sort of voice, hoping it would affect her. It never had before, but things were different now. Draco wasn't disappointed to discover a light blush on her high cheekbones.

"Don't be ridiculous. This is obviously something neither of us wanted, and whom am I to deny you the longings of your heart?" Hermione started when he stroked her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"Oh come now, pet. I've only eyes for you." Draco winked, lightening the mood significantly as the elves scurried about, delivering their wedding feast.

"Promise?" Hermione teased in return, deciding she quite liked a playful Draco Malfoy.

"Always." Draco whispered, blinking hard while silently cursing himself for leading them down such a road.

As for Hermione, she gasped hard, her eyes watering, and she clutched his palm in her lap. She lowered her head, her makeshift curls tumbling about her shoulders, hiding her face from curious onlookers. Draco allowed her such liberties, realising she was having a moment.

" _Hermione!"_

 _She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face, and pulling the blankets over a still slumbering Draco Malfoy._

" _What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"_

" _It's okay. Everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."_

" _What do you mean? Who-?" Draco stirred behind her, and Harry had enough sense to refrain from commenting on her questionable sleeping arrangements._

 _She saw Ron, who stood there holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron's rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas. He fervently hoped Malfoy remained asleep, but he wouldn't count on another miracle._

 _Hermione slipped out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes narrowed upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half raised his arms._

 _Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach._

" _Ouch – ow – gerroff! What the-? Hermione—OW!"  
_

" _You—complete—arse—Ronald—Weasley!" She punctuated every word with a blow. Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced._

" _You—crawl—back—here—after—weeks—and—weeks—oh, where's my wand?"_

 _She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry's hands, but he held it aloft, quickly kicking the bunk Hermione had vacated._

" _Oi! Malfoy! A little help here!" Harry shouted, stretched onto his toes to keep hold of her wand._

" _Ugh Potter, you're a wizard, use the bloody wand…Protego!"_

 _The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting her hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again._

" _Hermione!" said Harry. "Calm—"_

" _I will not calm down!" she screamed. Never before had Harry seen her lose control like this; she looked quite demented._

" _Malfoy, take her out, yeah?"_

 _Draco pushed his blonde hair from his eyes and nodded. Without another word, he casually tossed Hermione over his shoulder, and walked straight from the tent. She shouted and kicked a bit, but he didn't allow her actions to affect him. She wasn't angry with him. She was furious with Weasley, and he could work with that._

 _When they reached the trees nearest the boundary of the wards, Draco set her on her feet, keeping a firm hold of her shoulders. He knew Hermione would bolt back to the tent the moment she was released, and he wanted to give Potter a moment to speak with the red haired bastard._

" _Granger…" said Draco, trying to calm her._

" _Don't. Not you too. He left. He bloody left and…"_

" _I know, I was there, and now he's returned. Perhaps you might want to hear him out before you hex him. I assure you, if his explanation is lacking I'll hand over my wand." Draco crossed his arms, shivering in the cold and Hermione felt guilty for her outburst._

" _Promise?" Hermione's teeth chattered, but her eyes were so sad, he leaned forward and cupped her cheeks._

" _You shouldn't let him do this to you. He's only going to hurt you again."_

" _As opposed to what? What are you saying that you, Draco Malfoy wouldn't hurt me? I find that absolutely laughable." Hermione pretended the cold thumbs on her jaw didn't affect her, though she felt quite warm despite the chill in the air._

" _That's exactly what I'm saying, love." Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, her anger dissipating as the thump of her heart increased._

" _Promise?" She asked again, in a small voice, taking a step closer to him._

" _Always." He whispered, wondering what her lips would taste like, yet the Ginger Git stumbled from the tent making a beeline toward them._

" _Hermione! I'm sorry, I'm really—"_

Hermione Malfoy groaned loudly, drawing the attention of an intoxicated Professor Snape and a rather concerned Narcissa Malfoy. She raised her head, whipping it toward the wizard beside her and gasped.

"Are you alright?" The actual concern in Draco's voice was quite touching, but Hermione needed an escape.

"Yes, of course I'm alright. I simply remembered something quite important and I need to speak to Ast…to speak to Jeannie right away. It's of the utmost importance, I'm sure you understand." Hermione's shaky smile made him curious, but the quick peck upon his cheek, left Draco absolutely dumbfounded.

His gaze followed his wife as she casually swayed through the crowd, yet he lost sight of her before she ever reached Hermione Granger. He didn't understand what the fuss was all about, and it left an uneasy feeling in his chest. Draco stood quickly, towering over those standing closest to him, only to be waylaid by Blaise Zabini and Fred Weasley of all people.

"What are you doing? Let me go, I've got to…"

"Yeah yeah, we know. You've got to eavesdrop on your wife conversing with your love interest and trust us mate, that's a conversation you don't wish to hear." Blaise pulled a flask from his shimmering black dress robes and shoved it into Draco's hands.

Fred looked completely out of place and ill at ease, which would have pleased Draco before the war, but he didn't harbour animosity toward the wizard any longer. It was strange to see his mate in the company of a Weasley, rather than draped around some gorgeous witch or another, but Draco knew Blaise wasn't particularly exclusive in his tastes and passed no judgement.

"You know something. You're up to something. No, you're already done something. Gods, what the fuck have you done?" Strangely enough, it was Fred who rushed forward and covered Draco Malfoy's gaping mouth.

The two wizards dragged away the groom, with hardly a bit of a struggle and sat him on a stone bench far from the festivities. Fred carefully removed his hand, looking to Blaise for direction. Blaise sighed, wiping his hand across his face and took quite a large gulp from his recovered flask.

"Look. We're not fucking telling you now, alright?" Blaise winced as Draco's wand violently stabbed his throat. "Just listen you bastard."

Fred drew his wand, hesitantly preparing to jinx the angry Slytherin, but Blaise shook his head.

"Malfoy…"

"Don't you start you ginger bastard. I've about had enough of this! You said leave it all to you and what has that got me? Oh, I'll tell you! A bloody wife! That's what its got me! Do you realise I've got to…I've got to have….I mean to say…" Draco sputtered, unable to even speak the words.

"You've got to shag your hot wife, oh yes, poor you."

"Look here Zabini, just because you willingly shove your cock into any available orifice doesn't mean I'm not more particular." Draco crossed his arms in such a haughty fashion even Fred wasn't able to quell his laughter. "Oh shut up you! At least Blaise likes you, which is more than I can say for my wife."

Blaise sat beside his mate, his eyes lingering over Fred for a moment and he sighed. He had a particularly good vantage point and could see Hermione and Astoria arguing near the garden. It was easy to assume their memories had at least begun to return and he swallowed hard, hoping Draco wouldn't hex him too terribly in the end.

"She keeps looking at you, I don't think she hates you terribly much." Fred shrugged, unsure of his role in this debacle.

"Malfoy, I promise, I'll explain it. Not today, but soon, I swear it. Just, give her a chance yeah? I bet you a thousand galleons, your wedding night goes off without a hitch." Blaise wiggled his dark eyebrows and without even thinking about it, reached out and grasped Fred's hand.

Fred eyed the masculine hand entwined with his and decided he didn't hate it. Draco rolled his eyes, snatched Blaise's flask, and emptied it easily. He didn't want to fucking discuss his mandatory consummation. He wanted to drink until his wife's face blurred and he could pretend she was anyone else.

"Oi, don't get pissed, trust me. You're going to want to remember this night."

"I hate you." Draco spat, leaving the two wizards to their own devices. It was after all time to dine on his wedding feast.

As for Hermione, after she vacated the side of her new husband, she hurried through the guests, intent upon reaching Astoria. She caught the witch heavily snogging Ron Weasley, and cleared her throat noisily. She had half a mind to hex the witch and beat the wizard, but for the moment, she had a part to play.

"Tori! You look absolutely divine, doesn't she Ronnie?" Astoria batted her long dark lashes, squeezing Ron's thigh hard.

"Y-yes, lovely. Wonderful ceremony, I expect the food will be fantastic as well." Ron stared wide-eyed at the obviously angry bride and shrugged toward his girlfriend.

"Thank you. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to steal your girlfriend away for a moment." Hermione smiled sweetly, but there was something in her eyes, which was familiar and absolutely terrifying. Therefore, Ron nodded slowly, deciding it was best not to argue with her.

Astoria stood achingly slow, maintaining eye contact with Hermione. She stared into the caramel eyes flecked with splashes of green and with a slow, calculating smile, she leaned down and kissed Ron. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, her fingers in his red hair and gently bit his lip. Astoria then sauntered toward Narcissa's gardens, forcing Hermione to chase after her.

Hermione yanked Astoria's hand, causing the younger witch to stumble and dragged her behind an impressive topiary. Her cheeks were flushed, though Astoria wasn't certain if it was from the chill in the air, or the impressive amount of snogging she'd done.

"Give me back my boyfriend." Hermione hissed through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to slap the smug witch.

"Perhaps you don't know as much as you think you do. Is he your boyfriend? Are you positive you have need of a boyfriend, when you've a husband? You don't see me clamoring for the return of my fiancé. Of course you don't, that would be impractical as he's your husband now. You've better things to do than to demand that which is no longer yours. You best prepare for your wedding night." Astoria giggled lightly, wrenched herself free, and scurried amongst the guests, intent upon finding a particularly virile red haired wizard.

"Bitch."


	13. Virility & Virginity

**AN: I hadn't realised it had been so long between chapters. Sorry about that.**

 **As always...enjoy *kisses***

* * *

Virility and Virginity

* * *

Severus Snape sat in the dimly lit corner of the wedding tent and nursed yet another tumbler of fire whiskey. The happiness oozing from the intoxicated guests was wearing on his nerves. He never had delighted in happiness and resolutely refused to start.

He snarled at any witch with the gumption to approach him. Severus regretted agreeing to preside over the Greengrass-Malfoy wedding, but he understood now. He had to admit, Narcissa was quite the cunning witch. He wondered how long she had harboured her secret.

"Severus." Narcissa sat beside her old friend without the prerequisite politeness he had come to expect.

"Cissa." Severus curled his lip, displeased with her presence.

"Oh don't be that way. You understand it was necessary." Narcissa crossed her long legs, her manicured fingertips plucking at the pleats of her mauve skirts.

"You could have told me." Severus slammed his tumbler onto the light green table linens, irked to discover his glass was empty.

"Yes, I could have, but where would be the fun in that? Honestly, I couldn't take the chance of Lucius…"

"I'm aware." Severus Snape dragged his dark eyes toward the dancing newlyweds.

They seemed to be playing their parts. Draco's expression was devoid of emotion and as for Astoria, or should he say Hermione, the light blush on her cheeks would please her parents. It was the utmost sign of innocence.

"She knows…her name at least." He gestured toward the couple nonchalantly.

"It was only a matter of time. As long as she keeps her inquisitive little mouth shut, it will be fine." Narcissa tapped her fingernails on the linen, sipping from her champagne flute slowly.

"You expect her to…" Severus Snape's teeth snapped shut, and he pasted a small smile on his lips. The feeling was completely foreign and absolutely unwelcome, but Lucius would appreciate the effort.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourself." Lucius stroked his wife's bare shoulder, smiling congenially at Professor Snape.

The decades spanning friendship between Narcissa and Severus had always made Lucius ill at ease. It wasn't that he suspected his wife, Merlin forbid, fancied the dour Professor. No, it was much simpler than that. It was their secrets.

He knew they had them. Lucius would have been a fool to think otherwise, and he prided himself on not being a fool. When he had learned of his wife's betrayal in seeking out Severus Snape to protect Draco, he had nearly lost his mind. Later, to discover the Dark Lord's most trusted servant was loyal to Albus Dumbledore, had nearly been his undoing.

Lucius still bristled whenever he was forced to spend extended periods of time with the Professor and Narcissa, however, under the circumstances, he decided it was best to let things be. He had better things to do than to contemplate his wife's fidelity. For instance, he'd much rather watch his son pretend to be at ease, and his new wife pretend she was innocent.

Lucius was aware of their amorous activities during Draco's last year at Hogwarts, and it pleased him greatly. While Lucius was irritated to discover his son's new wife was not a virgin, at least he knew his son had sampled the wares. He chuckled against the back of his palm, which only earned him a glower from his own wife.

"You need to speak to your son." Narcissa gently stroked her husband's palm, confusing him with her slight display of affection.

"Whatever for?" Lucius smiled and waved at the guests before turning his complete attention to his wife.

"She doesn't remember. He needs to be kind, and gentle with her, if he expects to fulfill the demands of the Contract. I suppose if you can't be bothered, I could ask Severus. I'm sure he wouldn't mind speaking to Draco as to the proper way to make love to his wife." Narcissa smiled sweetly, batting her long lashes. It pleased her to see both wizards' cheeks take on a delightful green hue.

"I'll see it is done." Lucius jerked to his feet, immediately stalking through the throng of guests to whisk his son from the boy's new bride.

"Was that really necessary?" Severus moaned, wishing nothing more than to be home in his little cottage, surrounded with nothing more than his books.

"Definitely not, but it amused me. Tori, darling!" Narcissa waved, ushering the blushing bride over and Severus took his cue. Without another word, he vacated the tent and walked across the grasses before Apparating far from the sound of anything remotely resembling laughter.

* * *

Draco nodded toward yet another one of his parents' numerous acquaintances as he followed his father to the parlor. He was grateful for the reprieve. There was something different about Astoria. He didn't like the way she'd run off with Hermione Granger. He didn't like it one bit.

"Your mother and I have arranged a Portkey. You're to take her to the Villa. I suspect she'll be terribly bored, but why waste a perfectly good shopping trip to Milan when she barely remembers her own name. Such things can wait until later, when she's recovered. I'm sure she'll drag her sister along and you'll be free to do…whatever it is you wish to do." Lucius lazily twirled his wand and loosened the purple and silver tie Narcissa had insisted upon. He browsed his liquor cabinet, while dropping his wizarding robes onto a nearby hard backed chair.

Silently he resented being set to task, but as his stormy eyes gazed into the wedding tent, Lucius was quite pleased to see his wife speaking with Astoria. He was a jealous man, he always had been, and while logically he knew Severus wasn't a threat, their friendship still managed to raise his hackles.

"What am I doing here, Father? Shouldn't I be posing prettily for the photographers while spinning my wife on the dance floor?" Draco's sullen nature irked his father, but he no longer cared. He furtively observed Hermione dancing with that awkward ponce, despising how easily the Weasel held her as she laughed.

"She was never an appropriate choice, son." Lucius, in an unexpected moment of parental affection, patted his son's shoulder.

"Doesn't change the way I feel." Draco bitterly admitted, punching the wall with more force than his father expected.

Lucius didn't enjoy his son's displeasure, but he wasn't the sort of man who was made to coddle. His father had never coddled him, nor given him much, in terms of choices, therefore he had reared his son in much the same way. He expected the resentment came with proper parenting, and the idea that he was mistaken, was ridiculous.

Narcissa was always suggesting a lenient hand, but what did that get them? A son who had turned toward the Order of the Phoenix, when they could have risen to greatness. Lucius realised he was being obstinate, but he was a Malfoy, it was his legacy.

"What would you have me do? I can't retract the Contract and give you what you wish. I could never give you what you wish. She's a Mu…"

"She's not." Draco hissed, instantly lowering his voice. "She let everyone believe a lie to protect a man she'd never met. He doesn't even know she exists, and she's so fucking selfless, she protects him. Her Muggle parents would be hurt, she always said." Draco no longer felt a speck of loyalty as far as Hermione Granger was concerned. It was his anger rearing its ugly head and he knew he would regret it eventually, but today was not that day.

"Draco, how do you know this?" Lucius leaned on the heavy pine table wedged into the corner. His brows were drawn and Draco knew his father was planning something, but the weight of her secrets had dragged him down for too long.

"She told me, when we were allowed to be friends. You ruined that as well. You're not happy unless you're ruining everything in my life, is that it? Why the fuck am I here? What do you want?" Draco kicked one of his mother's potted plants, grimacing as the black soil covered his pristine shoes.

"The feast has been had, the dancing has commenced. We've eaten the cake and some of us, have enjoyed the conversation. It is time for the bride and groom to be on their way. Your mother wished me to remind you…" Lucius paused, deciding it was best to answer Draco quickly. He could easily research Hermione Granger while Draco and Astoria were away creating the next Malfoy heir. "Your wife…doesn't remember your liaisons. I know you haven't…much…experience in the way of…innocent witches."

"Oh gods, Father, I'm not having this discussion with you. This is one of those instructional talks isn't it? I'm not completely inept. I'll give her a go, if I'm lucky she'll catch and provide you with a squalling grandson and I'll never have to touch her again. Everyone will be happy." Draco twisted open a bottle of champagne, pleased to hear the pop of the cork, and drank directly from the bottle.

Lucius was completely aghast at his son's behaviour. It was unfathomable that he wouldn't wish to maintain a relationship with his wife. When Abraxas had informed him he would be marrying Narcissa, he had accepted his father's demands, and courted her properly. They had built a wonderful foundation, and Lucius couldn't imagine spending his life with another witch. He quite disliked the pang of conscience causing the guilt in his veins, and groaned into his palm.

"Alright, I'm going to say this once. If you ever repeat it to your mother, I will deny it with my dying breath and believe you me, she will murder me." Lucius hastily glanced over his shoulder, nervously looking for his wife, which only intrigued Draco greatly.

"She's not there. I'm going to assume she's helping Tori pack."

"Oh thank Circe. Once, before your mother and I were set, there was a witch. It was mere flirtation more than anything. I admit there was a fair bit of errant hand holding, completely innocent, of course! None of this is the point, the point is, when you take your wife and aim to…solidify your Contract…"

"Shag my wife, yes, yes go on then." Draco waved his hand airily, willing his father to hurry as his stomach was suddenly quite nauseous.

"Right then, so if you find yourself…unable…to perform, simply recall your favourite moments with your witch." Lucius spat the words quickly, looking anywhere but at his only son.

"She's not my fucking witch, now is she? I wouldn't even have this problem if you hadn't foisted it on me." Draco's cheeks flushed with anger, furious to hear Hermione Granger referred to as _his_ witch.

"You're completely missing the point. I wash my hands of it. I need a drink." Lucius pushed off the pine desk, hastily tossing his long blond hair over his shoulder and practically running from the parlor.

Draco silently contemplated his father's words, his palm flat against the smooth flowered wallpaper of the parlor. It wasn't the worst idea his father ever had, though Draco was more than slightly disgusted to imagine his father in the throes of passion with anyone, let alone is mother. He released a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

He wondered how his father would react to hear of his son's secrets. It would be easy to assume Draco's favourite memory would be the heated snogging session in the Astronomy Tower, but they would be wrong. While it was delightful, it was also bittersweet. Those moments were tinged with sadness and goodbyes, definitely not what he required for a tryst with his wife.

Draco allowed his thoughts to drift to their moments in Diagon Alley, in the midst of swirling black clouds, but dismissed that one as well. She was crying and he was begging. It definitely wasn't his most refined moment. No, but there was one that leaped forward, begging for attention and Draco couldn't resist it, nor did he want too.

 _"This is ridiculous. Are you asleep?" Draco slapped his hands onto the threadbare carpet, groaning as he flipped onto his side._

 _He could barely see her in the darkness, but he knew she was there. The stupid Weasel had a fit of gallantry and insisted Hermione sleep upon the couch cushions. Draco knew it was a ploy to earn his way back into her good graces, and it irked him more than it should._

 _"You know I'm not. I don't know why you're asking. I can't sleep." Hermione pushed off her cushions and shoved them toward him, before lying back down._

 _"Doesn't seem to stop those two." Draco scoffed, unsure he could be heard over the sound of Weasley's snores and Potter's moans._

 _"They could sleep anywhere. Actually, I'm positive they have. It's too dark. I don't like the dark." She reached out and managed to find his hand in the darkness._

 _Draco didn't want to admit his inability to sleep had nothing to do with the bumbling idiots and everything to do with her. He had spent many a night wedged against her side in that ridiculous Weasley hovel for the entire summer. Now that he no longer had the ability to slip into her room, they no longer shared a narrow bed, and his sleep pattern was practically nonexistent._

 _"This is all your fault. I used to be able to sleep. You've ruined me." He whispered, his thumb stroking the back of her hand and she sighed._

 _"You're so dramatic. Come on then." He couldn't see her, but with a whisper, the cushions were widened. Without the slightest bit of preamble, he slipped beside her, instantly wrapping his arms around her slight form._

 _"This is better." Draco murmured into her curls, completely nonplussed when they caught on his lips. Hermione shivered, therefore it was completely natural for his hands to rub her back, and brush against the curve of her bum._

 _"I can't sleep like this." Hermione huffed and rolled over, still within the safety of his arms. She ignored his hiss as her bum brushed across the front of his slacks and sighed._

 _Draco didn't know what possessed him, no, that wasn't true. It was her. She possessed him. He dropped his lips to her shoulder and breathed deeply, kissing it softly and she froze. He gripped her hip, his chest burrowed into her back, while the fingers on his other hand toyed with her curls._

 _"What are you doing? You can't do that here." Hermione's choked whisper forced his hands to stop and he didn't reply, though he didn't remove his hands._

 _Eventually she relaxed, her breaths growing slow and deep, while Draco stared down at her. The moonlight broke through the draperies, casting a soft glow upon her face. Her lips were parted and even in sleep, she reached for him. She grasped the hand at her hip and dragged it between her breasts._

 _"Fuck." Hermione wiggled in her sleep, causing him more than a little grief. It wasn't long before she was still, and he was absolutely wide-awake._

 _He carefully removed his hand, brushing against the swell of her breasts with a muted curse. Draco spent many an hour convincing himself he didn't want her. She was simply the only witch he had laid eyes on in months. It was the current situation that drew him to her. It had nothing to do with the way she smiled at him. It had nothing to do with the way she protected him. It had nothing to do with the way she half rolled in her sleep, her breasts pushing the limits of her little plaid button down._

 _Draco groaned and tested the limits. Her shirt had come untucked and exposed her stomach. He slipped his hand into her blouse, gently stroking the smooth skin of her abdomen and she sighed, snuggling into him. His thumb flicked the bottom button and it came undone._

 _He had already decided to blame his exploration on being a virile young man and deftly unbuttoned the rest of her blouse. Besides, he reasoned, it wasn't anything they hadn't done before. Draco was pleasantly surprised to discover her lack of brassiere. Her breasts heaved while she slept, her brow furrowing as the cool night air licked her blush peaks._

 _Draco carefully pulled the sleeping bag over them, covering her nudity before palming a delectable breast. He kneaded it carefully, his breaths short and slightly raspy. Hermione moaned, her eyelids fluttering as he continuously stroked her hardened crests. He suckled her neck, no longer concerned if she woke._

 _"Malfoy, wh-what are you doing?" Hermione's voice was thick with sleep, but she didn't push him away. In fact, she arched her back, pushing her breast further into his hand._

 _Draco didn't answer, instead he slipped beneath the sleeping bag, captured a begging point between his teeth, and sucked hard. He grumbled with appreciation when her small hands tugged on his hair. He paid homage to the other just the same, and he knew she was chewing her lip to bits._

 _He yanked on her Muggle jeans, bursting the snap and she grabbed his hands._

 _"Don't." Draco pushed the heavy bag off his head and worked his way back up her body. He licked her earlobe, and kissed her neck, nibbling gently._

 _Carefully, he pushed her jeans from her hips, his fingers investigating her simple knickers with interest. He touched her then, over the cotton, grazing her thigh and Hermione squeezed his fingers tightly._

 _"Let me. I won't shag you. Hell Granger, I won't even kiss you. Merlin knows you'd fall in love with me then and we can't have that, now can we?" Draco teased her, with an easy smile._

 _"You've kissed me before, but we're not supposed to speak of that, now are we?"_

 _"Come on, Granger. Don't be like that." Draco quickly shed his own slacks and she gasped, clutching the edge of the sleeping bag. "Come on now, they're ridiculously uncomfortable. I'm sure you understand." Teasingly, he took her hand and placed it on his covered, yet throbbing erection._

 _She didn't yank her hand away or smack him. Hermione frowned and suddenly her cold little fingers were in his boxers. Draco hissed sliding his fingers into her dampened panties. Hermione whimpered and he knew it was laced with the fright of discovery, more than a fear of him. Her petite hand tightened around his cock and he jerked with the sensation._

 _Draco bit her shoulder as his fingers stroked her weeping folds. Hermione's breaths increased and he applied pressure, spinning delicious little circles before slipping a finger inside. She covered her mouth with her free hand, muffling her cry when his forefinger bumped against her sensitive parts._

 _A light sheen of sweat broke across his forehead while he diligently worked between her thighs, thrusting his cock into her hand. Hermione's legs fell open and he knew she was close, oh so close. He spilled into her hand as her back arched off the cushions, her teeth embedded in her hand. Her hips moved with his hand and then she was fluttering around his fingers, almost sobbing with her release._

"Yeah, I can work with that." Draco wiped his face with an embroidered handkerchief and set off to find his wife.

* * *

Hermione Granger didn't understand why Narcissa was being so kind to her. In the grand scheme of things, she assumed the Matriarch would be hexing her, rather than helping her. Of course, the word 'help' was subjective at the moment.

"Oh this little number is lovely. You'll want something light on the island." Narcissa smiled brightly, flicking her wand to magically pack the skimpiest sundresses Hermione had ever seen.

"I don't…why are you…shouldn't we be…Merlin, not that! I can't wear that!" Hermione snatched a revealing emerald green nightie from her new mother-in-law's hands with bright pink cheeks.

"No, you can't wear it, but Astoria can, and for the moment that's exactly who you are. You must play your part properly until we can discover the best way to free you. Of course, you'll still be married to my son, can't do anything about that, but I'd much rather my husband not kill you. I'm sure you understand. How about this one then?" Narcissa held a filmy, short nightie against her and Hermione swallowed hard.

"Shouldn't you be…" Hermione closed her eyes as numerous items of clothing she'd never consider wearing flew into a non-descript black bag.

"Hexing you? What purpose would that serve? What's done is done. No, no, don't remove the dress. It's tradition for the groom to do such things." Narcissa Malfoy, pureblood, hummed, secretly pleased as she packed for her daughter-in-law.

She reminded herself to thank Blaise. After all, Draco's happiness had always been of the utmost importance to her. It was only a matter of time before he discovered the truth. Her son wasn't the problem, her husband on the other hand was another matter completely.

"Mother?! Mum! Come on then, she can't need the entire wardrobe! We'll only be gone a few days. Father is going to lose his mind if we miss the Portkey." Draco angrily kicked open the bedchamber door, attempting to curb his temper.

He inadvertently bumped into Hermione, his quick reflexes catching her about the waist before she tumbled to the floor. Narcissa occupied herself with floating the bags to the foyer, her breathy laugh, followed by a bit of light humming, was completely ignored by the couple. Draco set Hermione on her feet, unable to formulate the proper words. He was still caught in the midst of a daydream, and rather enjoyed the fact she was easy on the eyes.

As for Hermione, her body reacted much more quickly than her brain. She felt her cheeks heat and her heart race, but she still was unable to trigger the return of all her memories. Something deep within her heart told her Draco Malfoy was the catalyst, but she balked at the idea. She continuously clung to the idea of Ron, as he had filled the bulk of her childhood.

She didn't remember much, but there were moments and most of them surrounded Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. There were others, less clear, and they stirred her blood. Hermione wanted to believe the strong arm tightly wrapped around her waist, the fingertips stroking her jaw, and the soft breaths in her ear belonged to Ron, but she knew it wasn't so. She couldn't say for certain the wizard in question was Draco Malfoy, but the evidence seemed to lean that way.

It was frustrating to know everything was wrong, but it was harder when it felt right. Draco slowly unwound his arm from behind her back, but he didn't step away. She hated the way she leaned toward him, and even the way he chuckled at her.

"You're different and I don't hate it. Come on then, the last thing I need is to listen to another enchanting lecture from my father." Draco's palm on her lower back caused Hermione to jump, swallowing hard.

"Where are we going?" Hermione valiantly tried to keep from things that came naturally to her. She wanted to tuck her hair behind her ear, or prattle about the architecture of Malfoy Manor. She desperately wanted to lick her lips, but licking them would lead to biting them, and that would never do.

She wasn't exactly sure what was instinct and what was an inherent part of her personality. Hermione suddenly felt awkward. She spent the short walk to the foyer teetering on her heels and praying she wouldn't trip.

"Ridiculous." Lucius Malfoy tapped his white handled cane onto the pristine marble of the foyer, with a sneer on his lips.

"Darling, do you not remember when we were newlyweds?" Narcissa chided her husband lightly, bestowing a small peck upon his cheek.

"Regardless, they're going to miss their Portkey."

"Father, I'm an adult, I don't need to be watched over as if I were a child in nappies." Draco ushered his wife forward, holding onto her elbow as she tripped over the hem of her wedding dress.

Neither of his parents bothered to answer him. Instead, they withdrew their wands and muttered an unfamiliar incantation. Draco frowned, prepared to issue quite the tongue lashing, but his wife's knees buckled, and he was forced to keep her upright. As his hand touched hers, a spark of magic shocked him, but instead of forcing him to withdraw, his fingers laced through hers of their own accord.

"What madness is this?" Draco hissed, angrily shaking their hands.

"Ever so dramatic. It seems some things never change. Stop fretting. It's simply the Fidelity Binding. Didn't you read the fine print of your contract? Honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Give me your wands." Narcissa tapped her peep toe heel, thrusting forth her hands expectantly.

Draco struggled to remove his wand from the interior pocket of his robes with only one hand, and Hermione did the same. She hesitated, completely uncomfortable the idea of simply handing her wand to Narcissa Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter. The saucy older witch nodded and winked, which is the only reason she acquiesced. Draco slapped his wand into his mother's palm, glowering at her, but she was completely nonplussed by his behaviour.

"Wait, did you say...Fidelity Binding?" Draco choked in absolute horror, which only caused his stoic father to laugh.

"It's temporary, of course. The Portkey will take you to one of our numerous ancestral homes. You will leave your wands behind in order to force you to communicate. I expect it will be quite challenging. The marriage must be consummated, sooner rather than later. The consequences for disregarding such are quite dire, and I dare say neither of you would enjoy it in the least. The Portkey will activate to facilitate your return when the terms of the Contract have been met." Lucius Malfoy removed a lovely crystal paperweight from his pocket and delicately placed it in Hermione's hands.

"Let me guess, our hands remain bound until we've…"  
"Where are we going?"

Neither of their questions were answered as the Portkey activated. They were whisked away to the sounds of laughter and it didn't sit well with them at all. The newlyweds landed in a pile of limbs, sucking air into their lungs.

"Malfoy…" Hermione struggled to sit up, her skirts twisting around her legs, while she took in their surroundings. "I think we're in Athens."

"You know what Tori? I don't care where we are." Draco unceremoniously jerked her to her feet, his eyes narrowing at their quaint accommodations. "Merlin, a one bedroom flat, they're trying to kill me." He pushed through the heavy double doors with their intricate woodcarvings, and knew these doors could only lead to the bedchamber.

"Gods, this is…absolutely breathtaking. Look at the view! Did you know Athens is one of the world's oldest cities? How did I know that?" Hermione gestured through the floor to ceiling window with excitement dancing in her eyes.

"I've no idea how you know anything, Tori." Draco flexed his fingers, still quite perturbed he was chained to her and sat on the stone bench near the glass to allow her to enjoy something.

"I remember things sometimes. There are moments I mean…" Hermione trailed off, saddened by the scowl decorating his lips.

"Come on, let's get this over with." Draco tugged on her hand until she was seated beside him. She searched his grey eyes with confusion, expecting him to at least pretend he was interested in her returning memories. "We've got to do this and I don't want to do it anymore than you do, but I've a confession to make."

Hermione nervously grasped a fading curl, honestly afraid of what he would say. Was it his fault she was in this predicament? Was she _truly_ Hermione Granger? Was this some sort of twisted joke and no one had bothered to inform her?

"I'd rather prefer if we only did this the once. I don't know if that's possible as we're expected to provide an heir, but I have to hope. I don't hate you, and I don't want you to think I do, but I…I can't love you either." Draco struggled with his emotions, grappling with them as he tried to tell her the truth.

"I don't even know who I am. I mean I have a suspicion, but I can't expect you to love a shell of a witch."

"That's not what I mean. I know who you are. You are Astoria Persephone Greengrass, well Malfoy now, and we haven't a fucking thing in common. Sometimes, I swear my mind is playing tricks on me and you remind me of _her_ , which is torture quite honestly." Draco groaned, his hand fluttering through his hair as he glanced away from her. Hermione's mouth snapped shut, and her need to correct his assumptions died on her lips.

"There's someone else. That's what you're saying. You care for another and you married me because your father forced you into it. I don't even know how I feel about that. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I'm locked into a marriage I didn't even get a say in, and my husband is in love with a witch he'll never have. I browsed the Contract with your mother. Your father was lying. The Fidelity Binding isn't temporary." Hermione wiped bitter tears from her cheeks, unsure as to why they were even falling.

"Fantastic. I feel like absolute shit about it now. I don't even want to shag you any longer." Draco grunted and his wife stood, squaring her shoulders. He'd never seen her do such a thing before and it mildly interested him. She dragged him toward the enormous four-poster bed and sat on the edge, patting the place beside her.

"Alright Malfoy, listen and listen well. I don't wish to spend another moment in this dress. I know there are enchantments on it, and I can't remove it myself. Goodness, does your mother really think I'm an imbecile? Regardless, we're locked into a lifetime of misery, and you're absolutely correct. We might as well get it over with, so go on then, tell me about her." Draco's mouth gaped, absolutely positive Astoria had been Imperioused.

Hermione pulled the few pins remaining in her hair, sighing as the pressure on her head was released. She scratched her scalp, moaning lightly with relief, while she waited for Draco to tell her about the witch she'd never be.

"I don't…I don't want too. I'm rather tired." He lied.

"Liar. Just, close your eyes and tell me about her, I won't ask any questions." Hermione squirmed in her dress, anxious to have it off, knowing she didn't want to hear his words.

Draco studied her closed eyes carefully and while she didn't see, he nodded. He scooted further onto the bed, pulling her with him until they were both reclined upon the numerous plush pillows. It was difficult to maneuver but eventually, Draco was comfortably propped on his right arm, his left placed on her stomach.

"She looks like you." He began, ever so softly, wincing as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "She's taller though. There's a smatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, gently kissing her cheeks, but you'd have to look rather hard to see them. She's brilliant, the most brilliant witch I've ever known, and I used to hate her. I don't deserve her and from the looks of it, she's happy. I hurt her, because I couldn't stand up to my father. It took me a long time…longer than it should have, but I love her. I was afraid to admit it…to myself more than anything, because if I love her, she can hurt me and I don't much like that idea. It doesn't matter now. She's happy without me and I love her." Draco finally looked at her face and squeezed her hand with a gentleness that almost set her to tears.


	14. The Mysteries of Magic

**AN: I realise it has been pretty long (for me), between chapters. I can't say it is going to get better. At the moment, I'm suffering from a MTBI (mild traumatic brain injury), therefore writing has been going exceedingly slowly. I ask that you bear with me. I'm doing the best I can & the end is in sight for this fic.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

The Mysteries of Magic

* * *

"Harry. I'm pregnant. No, that will never work. Harry, you'll never believe…no, that's absolute shit as well. Congratulations! Bollocks." Nymphadora Tonks theatrically pretended to bash her face into the mirror above the sink basin.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. We were careful. I think, I mean, I thought we were careful. I don't know. This was never supposed to turn into anything…Ginny Weasley was supposed to come back and he was going to run back to her. I was going to live with my mum and raise little Teddy, and everything would be right with the world." She slapped the sink, knocking her wand to the floor and shouted.

As she bent to retrieve her wand, she smacked her head on the underside of the basin, her foot slipped out from her under her, and she was in a delightful disastrous heap on the washroom floor. Tonks laughed, slowly first, which only grew to great cackles.

"What on earth?" Andromeda, and her sister Narcissa, peaked into the small washroom, with dual frowns and pursed lips.

"I laugh only so that I may not cry."

"Cry later, it's time for Tapestry Tea. It's tradition, Nymphadora." Andromeda twisted her dark brown locks into a lackluster bun and hefted her daughter to her feet.

"If it's any consolation, there will be liberal draughts of firewhiskey in the tea." Narcissa sniffed dryly, and Tonks managed a small laugh.

Honestly, she'd never see her aunt dressed so casually, and it was calming. The tall blonde witch smoothed the sleeves of her simple, navy dress and led the way to her sister's parlour. It was freeing to leave her robes at home, and she wondered how Lucius would react to seeing her dressed to informally.

"I can't have any bloody firewhiskey." Tonks bubblegum pink hair popped into a telling baby blue, and Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Sweet Circe, tell me you're joking." Andromeda groaned, immediately skipping the tea, and pouring general glasses of rich red wine.

Tonks shrugged her shoulders, cuddling a struggling Teddy. She caught him around the waist when he barreled into the room, and was quite put out at being halted. His hair spun through cycles of colour, finally settling on platinum blond, emulating his great-aunt. He smiled toothily and patted his mother's cheek, squealing in delight when he was freed from her stifling arms.

"I don't know how it happened…"

"The usual way I presume. Merlin knows you lot go at it like rabbits as it is. Positively shameful really, I can't imagine explaining this to Teddy when he's older." Andromeda snarled and even her daughter flinched. It wasn't often her mum reminded her of Bellatrix, but there were moments, especially when she was angry. "I'm going to have cheeky grandchildren, I suppose there are worse things. At least they won't be sporting a scar." Andromeda laughed at her own joke, pouring herself another glass of wine without care.

"Mum! I haven't even told him yet!" Tonks buried her face in her hands, and Narcissa Malfoy forgot her pureblood roots and snickered.

It didn't take her but a moment to realise the truth. Her saucy, clumsy, delightful, half-blood niece was with child. The father of said child, was none other than the godfather of Teddy, one Mr. Harry Potter. Narcissa closed her eyes, imagining the outrage lighting her husband's face to discover they were more closely related to Harry Potter than he thought.

"Oh Nymphadora darling, you must let me tell Lucius." Andromeda's eyes widened significantly and then she too, was lost in great gales of laughter with her sister.

"Fantastic. I'm up the duff, and you lot are completely pissed."

* * *

Hermione didn't bother to wipe away the tears leaking from the corners of her closed eyes. She didn't understand why it was so painful to listen to him speak of another witch. The only logical conclusion she could come to was she loved him. She didn't properly remember him, but she loved him, and he loved another. How terribly Shakespearean.

Draco leaned down and kissed her then. It had never been his habit to kiss Astoria, but there was something appealing in seeing her vulnerability. It reminded him of Granger. She fought so hard to be strong, but there were moments, secretive little moments, when her walls weakened.

The sun had long since sunken, drifting into the mysterious twilight as their hands unbound, but they didn't notice. The soft breeze floating through an open window extinguished the candles decorating the ornate bedside tables and even the mantle, but they didn't notice. A timid house elf entered the cottage and silently closed the heavy draperies surrounding the four-poster bed, before reporting back to an inquisitive Narcissa Malfoy, and still, they didn't notice.

Hermione was floating on a cloud. She was surrounded by feelings of warmth, awakening her from a sleep that had enchanted her for too long. The strong hands stroking her cheekbones forced breathy sighs to escape from lips that were quickly consumed. Nimble fingers yanked on the laces keeping her wedding gown together, while soft whispers eased her rising anxiety.

There was something about the darkness. It calmed him, and reminded him of many nights spent in a wet tent holding _her_. Astoria, well, the Astoria he remembered, would be filling his ears with faux moans of passion, but this witch was different. She didn't tear his dress robes from his body, and climb astride with demands. Instead, her fingers trembled against his jaw, his throat and even against his heart. Her little gasps whenever he happened to graze across her bare skin was driving him mad.

Draco blamed it on the magic. It was the only thing that made sense to him. His father must have cast some sort of furtive spell. It was the only explanation for his blinding need to consume her. Kissing her was a taste of heaven, and he didn't wish to stop.

Hermione shivered as warm fingers slid the tulle strap from her shoulder. The feel of his silken lips against her shoulder, ever so gentle, caused her fingers to fist in his robes. When Draco withdrew from her, she was confused, almost wishing she felt relieved. She listened to his breaths and sat up, completely unconcerned with her dress pooling at her waist.

The bed creaked and she felt him moving behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, even as her eyes struggled to adjust to the pitch black, his fingers in her hair. Hermione's body trembled from his proximity and the raging emotions she couldn't quantify. His slender nose inhaled deeply, just behind her ear, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

"You smell like her." Draco murmured before licking her throat. She could feel his bare chest against her back and sighed.

"I'm…sorry?"

"Come here." Hermione frowned, listening to his feet slap against the cool tile, and then she was standing in front of him.

She allowed him to push her dress to the door, nervously standing almost nude. Hermione wanted to protest the speed, but it was excruciatingly difficult when her senses were overwhelmed with caresses and kisses littering her skin. Draco made short work of the cumbersome bustier, hastily dropping it on the floor beside her gown.

He didn't know why, but Draco knew he needed to tread carefully. It was obvious by her timid behaviour, she was quite nervous, anxious even. It wasn't his wish to scare her, hell, he didn't know what his wish was any longer. When he sought out her knickers, she gasped, pushing his hands away.

"I don't think…I can do this." Hermione gulped, pushing lightly against the smooth muscled chest, which was incredibly close. Draco turned her slowly, holding her shoulders, until her thighs brushed the side of the four-poster bed.

"Tori, we've done this before, more than once. You just need to trust me." Draco dragged her dark chestnut waves over her right shoulder and ran his forefinger down her spine. Astoria had always laughed when he'd practiced such things during their time at Hogwarts, but this time she was still, her breath rapid.

"I don't like the dark." Hermione whispered, grasping the hand on her hip and dragging it between her breasts.

She didn't know what possessed her to do such a thing, but the moment his hand was there, it felt right. Draco stiffened, shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed the thoughts from his head and stepped back.

"I can fix that." Her body temperature drastically dropped the moment he moved away from her, but then she saw him. Draco Malfoy was a tantalizing sight. Hermione swore there wasn't a speck of fat on him, every curve, and hard angle were sinewy muscles, dancing in the moonlight.

Draco's silvery eyes darkened. There was something alluring seeing Astoria glancing at him over her shoulder, her back bare, wearing nothing more than a sheer pair of knickers. He strode forth quickly, dropping his boxers to the ground and lightly pushed her onto the bed.

He dragged the sheer lace down her thighs, mindful of her whimpers. Draco rolled her onto her back, and kissed her hard. Her arms quickly encircled his neck, and it wasn't long before he was wedged between her thighs. He avoided her breasts, only because he vividly remembered a sound slap for even considering molesting Astoria's pert breasts.

Draco's surprise was palpable when she grasped his hair in sure fingers, and forced his face to her chest. He wasn't one to ignore such a plea, voraciously attacking pebbled peaks until she moaned. He could feel her slick heat against his arousal, and as much as he wanted to plunge into her, he couldn't.

Hermione's hands were nonstop. She caressed his cheeks, raked her fingers down his chest, grasped his hips, yanking him toward her. She was searching for that ever-elusive high, and she nearly convulsed when Draco sunk his fingers into her. She quivered, instinctively covering her mouth. His talented fingers strummed her chords, delighted with her vocal responses. It almost reminded him of…

Draco's eyes snapped completely open, staring hard into her face. Hermione's eyes were tightly shut, her pink lips parted and panting. The moonlight bounced off her shimmering skin, slick with sweat, and that's when he saw it. He nearly withdrew his hand, but then she was shattering, nearly sobbing with her release, and he had to have her.

He climbed up her body, pausing along the way to nibble her waist, kiss the almost invisible scar on her ribs, and suckle her breast before capturing her lips. It was the slight scar that troubled him the most. Astoria didn't have a scar.

As the fog cleared in Hermione's head, slowly, rather than the rapid picture book she had imagined, her memories returned. She felt Draco probing between her legs, teasing her folds with the head of his cock, and she panicked. Her fingers slipped on his slick shoulders, and then he was inside her.

"Wait…wait, I'm not ready…" Hermione's hands traversed his chest, unable to maintain purchase, considering her hands were clammy and his chest was slick with sweat.

"You are unbelievably ready. Trust me."

Draco groaned, pushing forward achingly slow, bracing his weight on an elbow before thrusting harder through the tight space. He withdrew and pressed forward, and Hermione's head fell back, inadvertently tensing, but then he was completely buried in her and he gasped, staring down at her.

"You're really _not_ Astoria." Draco's skin felt hot, and he thought the gentlemanly thing to do was stop, but his body had other ideas. She was a virgin, and he damn well fucking knew Astoria was anything but a virgin. Despite the confusion, he began to move, watching the tightening of her face segue into pure bliss.

"Gods, Malfoy." Hermione desperately clutched his hips, driving him into her, her legs wrapping around him of their own accord.

"You never say my name." Draco hissed, biting her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark as he plunged into her, his rhythm growing erratic as her first flutters clenched at him. "Fuck you're so tight, you're going to kill me."

"Malfoy…" Draco smirked, it was pleasant to hear her beg. He gently tweaked her nipple and she choked, convulsing around his cock while he thrust harder. "Draco…" Hermione mewed, and that was the end of him. He grunted, pinning her twitching hips to the feather tick, spilling himself within those warm inviting folds.

Draco flopped beside her, his head resting on her breast. He listened to the sounds of her strained breath, and her rapid heartbeat. Curious, he traced the small scar on her ribs, scowling at the memory of it all. He knew now, but he needed her to say it. He needed to hear it, in order to know it wasn't another dream.

"Say it." Draco kissed the side of her breast, smiling slightly as her fingers found their way to his damp locks, combing through them.

"You're right. I'm not Astoria." Hermione instinctively stiffened, semi-expecting some sort of angry Malfoy tirade, but instead she was greeted with laughter.

"Thank the gods." Draco rolled on top of her, covered her spent body with his own and proceeded to ravish her all over again.

* * *

"I knew it! You owe me fifty galleons!" Andromeda Tonks kicked the empty wine bottle across the floor as the Tapestry came to life.

It was an old tradition, ancient really, and it was their mother who had reinstituted it. Druella Black spent many an hour captivating her daughters with stories of their ancestors and the Tapestry. Every pureblood family had one, but not all of them were as special as the Blacks.

The Black Family Tapestry was handed down through the ages from mother to daughter, and so on. On the eve of their children's weddings, it was carefully removed from its wooden case and unfurled. The embroidered names of their ancestors were carefully studied with reverence. On the wedding night, the Black women surrounded the Tapestry laden with cups of tea, which really contained various spirits, and watched it spring to life.

The magic would swirl in golden light, creating the threads that just so happened to stitch the names upon the worn family heirloom. No matter the witch's heritage, or even the wizard's, the Tapestry didn't care for such things. Such things were born of prejudices and things of the like, magic was only concerned with truth.

"I can't believe I bet against you." Nymphadora groaned. She begrudgingly withdrew her frayed money pouch, and tossed the coins onto the coffee table.

"Twas your own folly. I told you she was different. She smiled at me. Astoria doesn't smile. She sneers and tells me I should make an appointment. She really is quite the little Personal Shopper, but she's aloof. The witch currently wearing Astoria's face is pleasant and kind. Hell, even Teddy adores her and that speaks volumes." Andromeda laughed gaily, clutching her winnings to her chest with glee.

"When did she see Teddy?" Narcissa was insanely curious, knowing the Greengrass witch detested children.

"It was simply in passing during the feast. He climbed into her lap and offered her the cake stuck to his fingers. She laughed and kissed his cheek. I swore Lucius was going to die from the shock of it."

"At least my grandchildren will be brilliant. I wonder if Draco is aware…" Narcissa daintily sipped her china cup filled with firewhiskey, her mind wandering.

* * *

Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger, woke to sunlight streaming through the half opened draperies, and a possessive pale hand encircling her breast. She blinked her eyes a few times, recalling the night's events with a blush and carefully removed his hand. She dragged the crisp sheet around her nudity, and vacated the bed with a glance over her shoulder.

She paused, watching him sleep. It was something she had done more than a few times in their years of friendship, and it never ceased to enthrall her. Draco's lips were slightly parted and she was pleased to note he still snored. It wasn't a loud, horrid sort of noise like Ron's, but it was there just the same. It was in his sleep he was the most vulnerable. The creases in his forehead were softened and his lips were not curled into snarls, sneers, or grimaces. He looked calm and at peace.

Hermione padded across the cool floor and slipped into the washroom. She didn't waste time inspecting the marble and ornate mirrors. Instead, she turned the taps in the largest shower she'd ever seen, and stepped into the steamy hot water. She sighed, as she worked the kinks from her muscles, and untangled her hair. She finished quickly, slightly distressed, and upon entering the bedchamber, immediately sought out the heavy oak desk lodged into the corner.

She rifled through the drawers searching for parchment and a quill. Frustrated, she slammed the final drawer shut, and groaned quite loudly. The weight of hands on her shoulder, caused Hermione to shriek, but strong arms held her quite still.

"What are you doing?" Draco's breath tickled her ear, and it took a moment for her to regain her senses.

"I…was searching for parchment. I thought to send an owl…" To her surprise, Draco laughed, his hands immediately seeking her smooth skin.

"There aren't owls here, wife. The entire point of our excursion is to avoid pesky things like the press and inquisitive mates. This nightie is delicious, come back to bed." Draco scrunched the semi-sheer material in his fists, and dragged it over her hips.

"You're being completely unreasonable. I've got to owl Harry as soon as possible. He needs to know what's happened. Oh gods, Ron. I've forgotten about Ron. I can't believe I…" Hermione covered her face, completely unmindful of the large hands cupping her breasts.

"Who cares? You're mine now. I've waited for years, and I'm not giving you up. I couldn't even if I wanted too. You're wearing my family ring and…." Draco paused, tossing his head back as the laughter bubbled forth from his throat, "fucking Blaise."

"Astoria too, that wretched little witch. I confronted her at the wedding, told her to give me back my boyfriend, and she didn't even blink an eye. I wasn't even positive he was my boyfriend, but she was damn sure, she wasn't giving him back. I can't believe it, did everyone know? Why wouldn't they tell us? I mean, wouldn't…oh my gods, your mother!" Hermione's arms were raised over her head, her filmy nightie floating through the air. Draco was less concerned with her dilemma, and more concerned with her nudity, he ached to have her.

"Don't wish to speak about my mother now."

"Malfoy, we can't…I've got to…" Hermione yelped as she was carried across the floor in strong arms and dumped onto the four-poster.

"You. Are. My. Wife. There will be no more talk of Weasley boyfriends." The intensity in his grey eyes startled her, scared her almost, until his eyes scoured every inch of her exposed body. "Do you…remember…the very first time…I ever touched you?" Draco kissed her palm before reclining beside her, his head on her tantalizing breast.

"Yes." Hermione whispered, instinctively pressing her thighs together to quell the memories, yet they paid no mind to her desires.

 _Molly Weasley stood just outside the Burrow, legs akimbo, hands on her hips, with a deep scowl on her lined face. She glowered at the tall pale wizard standing just behind Hermione Granger, terribly displeased with his presence. It mollified her slightly, to see her youngest son was just as displeased._

" _I told them, mum, but…" Ron strode forward, embracing his mother tightly, only to be pushed aside by Fred and even George._

" _He's alright. I mean, he's a bit…"  
"…pompous…"  
"…arrogant…"  
"…pale…"  
"…ferrety…" Fred chuckled, slapping his twin on the back, "but, he…"_

" _He hasn't a place to go. You can't turn him away!" Hermione cried, dragging an unwilling Draco Malfoy with her. "Tell them! Tell them what your father said!"_

" _Granger, stop. I told you that in confidence. I told you this was a terrible idea. It's alright, I understand. I'll go." He wrenched his hand from her determined fist and turned to go, only to have Arthur Weasley standing in his way._

" _Molly, the boy will be killed. We can't have that." Draco shot Hermione a particularly murderous look, but the gentle hand of Arthur caused him to look at the softhearted older wizard. "She didn't say a word, it doesn't take a genius. No, you'll stay here. I've already spoken to Kingsley, the only opposition is from Moody, but that's unsurprising. Ron, take him up." Arthur must have had some sort of unspoken conversation with his wife, because Molly didn't say another word, instead she opened the door and invited in the son of her enemy._

 _Later in the evening, when he was safely, though nervously, in a narrow bed listening to the sound of Ron Weasley's snores, he thought about Hermione. He respected the way she had valiantly defended him, holding his hand even in the face of Molly Weasley's reproof. Draco sighed, staring at the ceiling as the ghoul groaned over his head._

 _The door creaked open and his eyes instantly sought out the intruder, his fingers tightly gripped around his wand. Granger had fought for him to keep that as well, but he was still surprised to see her dark hair peak through the crack. She held a finger to her lips and then gestured for him to follow. Curiously, Draco tossed back the scratchy blanket, unconcerned with being shirtless and followed her down the narrow corridor._

" _Are you alright?" Hermione whispered the moment after shoving him into a small bedchamber on the first floor. Draco nodded slowly, spying a sleeping witch in a narrow bed across the room. "That's just Ginny, she could sleep through anything, but I put up a Silencing Charm just in case." Hermione threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and it took a few moments for his arms to surround her._

 _He wasn't used to being touched with affection, but decided it wasn't unpleasant. Draco was particularly fond of the soft full breasts flattened against his chest. He bent his head and inhaled against her throat. There was something so innocent and so feminine about her, it intrigued him. He didn't even realise he was kissing her neck, until she was gasping in his ear._

" _Malfoy, what are you doing?!" Draco grabbed at her arse, kneading her, holding her against him, and continued his onslaught of her throat._

 _Her nightgown was long and matronly with its little red flowers, but it was only in his way. He pushed her onto the narrow bed behind them and climbed up her, avoiding her parted lips. He didn't kiss her, he couldn't kiss her. He knew that the moment he tasted her skin. It would be the end of him and he couldn't have that, not now, but he wanted too. He desperately wanted too, and if Draco Malfoy knew anything about himself, he knew his impatience well._

" _I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm feeling. Everything is a mess. My parents hate me. You-Know-Who will murder me the first chance he gets and the only person I have in my corner…is you. I need this. I need you." Draco held her so tightly, Hermione struggled to catch her breath, though his teeth securely imbedded in her earlobe wasn't helping matters._

" _Look, I understand you're confused and upset even, but shagging me isn't going to fix your problems. I'm not having sex with you Malfoy. You don't even like me." Hermione pushed at his chest, her resolve weakening the more he touched her._

" _I saw you watching me, at Hogwarts I mean. Your little speech is almost impressive, except you didn't mention not liking_ _ **me**_ _."_

" _If you saw me, then you were watching me as well." Hermione pushed at the large hand caressing her bum through her nightgown, biting back a light moan. "I'm still not having sex with you. I've never had…" Hermione's cheeks flooded with colour, absolutely mortified at her confession._

" _Ohh, I see the problem. You're a virgin. Don't be embarrassed, there's nothing wrong with waiting. Have you…ever seen…" Draco adjusted his unbearably tight slacks, finally discarding them in a fit of impatience. "a cock?" Hermione closed her eyes, avoiding the tent of his boxers, willing her body to respond and vault her from the bed._

" _A bit of…snogging…with, with Viktor but…nothing more. I never understood what the fuss was all about." Her response bothered him. Draco wanted her to understand what the fuss was all about. He wanted her to crave…him, quite honestly._

" _I'll show you what the fuss is all about, Granger." He grasped her face with both hands and kissed her then. She whimpered in her throat as his lips moved across hers, consuming her. Draco licked her bottom lip, seeking entrance, growling as he tasted her, releasing her face to hold her body tight._

 _He was breaking every Malfoy rule his father had set forth and he didn't even care. If Draco Malfoy was going to forsake his family, he might as well start with her. Malfoy's do not beg. They do not plead. They do not submit. They do not kiss any witch but the one set forth by their family, and only on the day of their wedding. They do not speak of sentiment and never of love. Power is the most important virtue and Draco Malfoy was throwing it all to the wayside for a pretty little brunette witch._

 _He didn't bother with the tiny pearl buttons of her nightgown, instead dragging it to her throat. He broke their kiss long enough to wrench it over her head, but not long enough for her to protest. Draco sighed into Hermione's open mouth, losing himself in her. It was dangerous, much too dangerous and he was tumbling into the unknown faster than he knew what to do. Angrily, he tore away from her swollen lips, realising her breast was in his hand._

" _Y-you said…" Hermione's voice was exceedingly raspy, and she paused to clear her throat, but his nimble fingers constantly moving across her breasts didn't help her mission._

" _This never happened, Granger. The kissing parts I mean, can't have that getting out, it would ruin my reputation, and yours. I expect you'd rather keep these other bits to yourself as well, but that's entirely your prerogative." Draco smirked and without preamble reached into her knickers. "I'd like to taste you."_

 _Hermione's skin felt hot everywhere he was touching her, and pushing against his shoulders only made him laugh. She wanted him to stop and she didn't. He wasn't wrong. She had been watching him, more than she should have. It had become quite the little obsession. Seeing him hesitate when faced with killing Dumbledore and then killing Bellatrix for her, had weakened Hermione's resolve to stay away from him. The light kisses decorating her thighs didn't hurt either._

" _I don't understand…" Hermione choked, his tongue swiping across her wet folds._

" _I'm going to fuck you with my tongue, Granger. You're going to enjoy it, more than a little. Sometimes, at night, I'm going to slip into your bed and touch you and you're going to beg me to fuck you, but I won't. I mean, perhaps one day I will, but not today."_

Hermione writhed beneath her new husband, her knees locked around his head, her sweat slicked back sliding across the satin sheets. Draco held her hips firmly in place, forcing her orgasm to cascade into another, offering no relief from his ministrations.

"Malfoy please, no more. I can't take it." Hermione hummed, nearly sobbing from the sensation overload.

"Beg." Draco swiped his tongue across her shining little nub, dipping within her until she cried out once more.

"Draco, please, please, please." Hermione chanted, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes.

"You're not going to mention Weasley again, are you love?" Draco nipped her thigh, finally withdrawing, only to fill her completely with his engorged cock.

"That's….that's not fair." Hermione's breasts bouncing as he pounded into her were a welcome distraction, but he still hadn't received the answer he was searching for.

"Try again, Mrs. Malfoy." Draco chuckled, feeling her quiver around him, teasing her had become his favourite new pastime.

"I swear, sweet Jesus, I swear, and I never swear. I can't…I can't…" Hermione was crooning, her fingernails digging rivulets into his back, causing it to sting. She clawed at him, grasping his arse, forcing him to the hilt, and then he was spent. Draco grunted, shuddering, his arms shaking until he collapsed on her chest.

"I can see you now." Draco whispered, gently stroking her cheek, drinking in the sight of Hermione's smattering of freckles and golden brown eyes.

"We have to tell someone, Malfoy." Hermione twisted her damp hair into a knot, while she struggled to sit up against the propped pillows.

"Not yet. I'm not ready to share you yet. I've just gotten you back and I…" Draco's stomach growled angrily, but he wasn't quite ready to let her out of his sight, let alone to begin rummaging through cupboards for some bloody food.

"Wait, what? Say that again? I couldn't have heard you properly." Hermione scuttled from the controversial safety of the large four-poster and yanked open the top drawer of the bureau against the far wall.

She struggled into a plunging v-neck silver blouse, scoffing at the amount of cleavage on display, before tossing bits of sheer lace to the side. Hermione finally gave up and slipped into a pair of lacy knickers and an indecently short green skirt. She wasn't the least bit surprised to discover her entire wardrobe was various shades of Slytherin colours and turned toward Draco.

Hermione's lips twitched, almost a smile really, but she contained herself. He was quite the disheveled mess and it was strangely satisfying to see him less than perfect. His normally perfectly coifed blond hair was sticking up in places, oddly reminding her of Harry. His chest was decorated with various scratches and scabs from her fingernails. Draco stared at her, and there was the barest hint of fear in his eyes.

"You were looking at me…" Hermione realised his attentions weren't straying toward random witches at their wedding feast. He was staring at the witch joyfully entwined with Ron Weasley.

"How could you have forgotten? Dammit Granger, I asked you to run off with me. I told you…I bloody well told you how I felt, and you…you said I couldn't do that to you, not now. What the fuck does that even mean?" Draco angrily tossed the sheet from his nude body, not even taking the time to revel in the way Hermione's eyes followed his movements, and thrust his legs through the first available pair of lounge pants he found in the bureau.

"My…memory is still a bit dodgy…"

Hermione took a deep breath, preparing quite the tirade, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't shout at him, not now. He wasn't the Draco Malfoy sneering at her in her childhood, despising her very existence. He wasn't the Draco Malfoy lording his sexual prowess over her while he played her body like a finely tuned piano. He wasn't the Draco Malfoy breaking her heart into a thousand stabbing shards moments before walking out of her life. No, this was the Draco Malfoy who stood in the Astronomy Tower with tears in his eyes, silently imploring for someone to save him from a seemingly inevitable fate.

Hermione had saved him once, and it seemed now was the time to do it again. The lie danced on her lips, but the words refused to be expelled. The two stood less than a foot apart, but it felt like miles. Her hand ghosted his cheek and Draco flinched, which panged her heart.

"You're going to leave me this time…aren't you?" Draco cleared his throat lightly, denying his need to lean into her soft hand, his voice fraught with emotion. "I…I'd deserve it…" Hermione's arms carefully made their way around his neck, mindful of the stiffness in his posture.

"Ohh Malfoy." She stood on her toes in order to place her head on his shoulder, her lips gracing his jugular with a timid sigh. "It seems I can't. What sort of wife would I be then? However, after all these years, after all our secrets…you've never said…I mean…"

Tenderly, Draco's fingertip brushed her lips. He didn't allow her to finish her thought. He gripped her hips with lascivious intentions, instead kissing her ever so lightly, which screamed the emotions he had buried for years, more than any tryst in any wet tent, or darkened room could. Draco's heart clenched as he realised how absolutely beautiful she is, and he didn't waste another moment.

"I can't…not love you Granger. Believe you me, I've tried. I'm tired of fighting it, fighting you, fighting everything. It's absolutely exhausting."


	15. Hidden Truths

**AN: Hey. Hai. Still doing that writing thing, though, it takes a bit longer. Also, working on other projects. This story is almost at the close. Imagine that.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Hidden Truths

* * *

Fred Weasley yawned noisily, and rubbed his bleary eyes. His head was pounding furiously and quite honestly, he was still dazed. Fred shoved the heavy weight off his shockingly bare arse and rolled out of bed.

His feet hit the floor with a thud, reverberating through his head so loudly, he dry heaved into his hand. Fred flicked his dark red hair out of his bloodshot brown eyes and stumbled toward the washroom. As the cool water filled his hands, he took a deep breath and splashed it on his face.

"Fucking hell, how much did we drink?" The deep rumble of Blaise Zabini's raspy voice filled Fred's throbbing head. He knew he was in a bad way, considering every blink made him wish for death. However, glancing down, Fred soon realised he was as naked as the day he was born, which presented yet another problem.

"I haven't the slightest idea. Can't remember much of anything really, but by all means Zabini, tell me you're wearing pants." Fred groaned, cursing his drinking habits as even the sound of his own voice made his ears ring.

"Do ya want me to lie?" Fred emerged from the washroom and would have laughed if he knew it wouldn't have been exceedingly painful. Blaise teetered on the edge of Fred's bed, his head cradled in his large hands. "Ugh, put that away. It's too early to look at cock."

Fred yelped, covering his assets with both hands. Blaise had to admit it was pretty damn amusing to watch a tall, gangly, freckled wizard, side step around his flat. He didn't avert his eyes. What was the point of it, really? It was obvious they'd had a bit of a snog, perhaps even a shag, considering their shared nudity.

"Put on some clothes!" Fred hissed, much louder than he had intended, instantly cringing at the very sound.

"That would require opening my eyes." Blaise dry heaved, moaning loudly.

"You opened them to take a peek at my goods." Fred struggled into an orange tee shirt, which drastically clashed with his hair.

"Yes well, it's impressive, there's no harm in admiring a fine specimen. I told you I'm an equal opportunity wizard. Also, you should burn that shirt and anything else that colour." Blaise opened one dark eye just as Fred threw the offending shirt at his head. He shrugged, and slipped it over his head.

"Thought I should burn it." Fred's indignation was kind of cute, Blaise decided, pleased to discover his boxers.

"It looks good on me, most things do. Sweet Salazar, I need a vat of coffee and something greasy, covered in cheese, with a mountain of bacon." Blaise wobbled on his feet, lurching, burping, and casting Fred a few suggestive glances.

"It's Sunday. My mum is going to have a wondrous breakfast at the Burrow. If you find some bloody pants, I'll bring you." Fred discovered his favourite pair of worn Muggle jeans and some brown loafers, which clashed wonderfully with his black tee shirt.

"You're a mess. We're going to have to do something about that." Blaise waved his wand, removing the creases from his black slacks and slipped on his shiny dress shoes.

"You look…well you look…" Fred harrumphed and fumbled for his wand. "Marvelous actually, which makes me hate you a bit." Blaise Zabini's easy smile was the undoing of many a witch and wizard. Fred would have been no different if he had been looking, but the sound of an owl's wings distracted him.

"You weren't complaining last night."

"What the hell happened last night? Do you remember?" Fred refused to give Errol a single treat. Ruddy bird couldn't even deliver the post properly, there wasn't a need to spoil him for a job badly done.

"I reckon we had a bit of fun, considering we woke up nude." Blaise shrugged, completely nonplussed, however Fred's pale cheeks were suddenly a lovely shade of pink.

Blaise assumed the poor wizard had never been with a bloke. He didn't mind. Fred Weasley wouldn't be the first wizard he had deflowered and Blaise doubted he would be the last.

* * *

Harry Potter's nerves were frayed, and the day had barely started. He'd managed to drag Ron from the Burrow, under protest, while fending off Molly's offers of breakfast. His wicked hangover was the least of his problems though, as it seemed Ron was unable to resist regaling him with stories of Hermione's prowess.

"Harry, I don't understand your aversion, really. I mean, you told me you lot were siblings, and my siblings and I discuss this sort of thing all the time and…"

"Would you discuss it with Ginny?" Harry traipsed up the hill from the Burrow with the wind nipping at his cheeks, rethinking his life decisions.

"Ew, she's my sister and…ohh, I see. Well, trust me…" Harry spun on the spot, leaving Ron behind. "Hermione does a delightful thing with her tongue and…"

"She's not fucking Hermione, Ron!" Harry stumbled through the door, startling the hungover witches decorating the sitting room.

"Whoopsie! Someone told Potter! We're all in trouble now." Andromeda Tonks giggled, pausing to grasp her head as the room spun a fair bit.

"Not as much trouble as your daughter." Narcissa hiccupped, followed by a loud belch, and pushed her sister to the side. The regal blonde swayed on her feet, and quickly covered her mouth.

"Where's Tonks? Is she…alright? She told me to collect her and…" Harry frowned heavily, only to be shoved to the side by a stumbling Narcissa Malfoy.

"Aww Pretty Potter's worried! Isn't it the cutest thing? Shame he wasn't worried about protecting her from Potter spawn before he shoved his cock…"

"CISSA!" Andromeda pushed her riotous brunette curls from her face, and glowered at her sister.

Narcissa sighed, quite dramatically and set off for the washroom. She returned less than a moment later, completely unsteady on her heels. She leaned heavily on the shorter Harry, and he was less than pleased.

"Potter, she's a disgrace. You've got to do something." Narcissa's less than subtle whisper echoed in the narrow corridor he was forced down.

Harry managed to shake her off, silently hoping she'd vomit on Ron's hideous brown shoes. Ron gaped stupidly, as he was apt to do, utterly shocked to see Pureblood witches stumbling about like imbeciles. It amused him, until Narcissa began gagging in his vicinity.

Harry stepped into the washroom, sighing with relief as he closed the door behind him. He squatted beside Nymphadora Tonks, wondering why her cheek was resting on the porcelain toilet. He rubbed her back, completely nonplussed by her dry heaving.

"I've never seen your mother in such a state, and I reckon the same could be said for your aunt." He offered her a damp cloth, waiting patiently while Tonks wiped her lips.

"I'm pregnant, Harry." Nymphadora didn't waste time with stammering or turning a proper subtle phrase.

She reclined against the wall, waiting for his reaction. Her stomach was a twist of knots that had very little to do with her condition and everything to do with a most unhelpful mother and aunt. Her bubblegum pink hair faded into a dowdy brown, and Harry simply stared at the space above her head.

"Really?" Harry rubbed his scar, his skin suddenly very hot. "Well that's…are you sure? How did…I mean…it's fine."

"Fine. It's fine, he says." Tonks used the toilet for leverage, and stood face to face with Harry Potter. "No, Harry, it's not fine. How am I supposed to do this again? I barely managed the first time. How am I supposed to explain this to Teddy?" She shoved Harry out of her way and splashed cool water onto her splotchy face.

"What do you mean you barely managed the first time? I thought you did wonderfully. Teddy's young enough it won't really matter. He'll barely understand, and we'll explain it to him when he's older." Harry attempted to embrace her, but Nymphadora wasn't the least bit interested in being coddled or placated.

"Yes well things are much easier when you have someone you love by your side." Tonks huffed with irritation, her stomach rolling due to the scents of bacon wafting down the corridor.

Harry felt like he'd been struck. Nymphadora Tonks had never been intentionally unkind. He hadn't really thought about his feelings for Tonks. They had come together in moments of need. His anger and hurt stemming from Ginny leaving and well, Tonks was completely overwrought from Remis Lupin's death during the Last Battle.

It made sense at the time that they would bury their sadness in each other. Harry supposed he had come to care for her as much more than a place keeper, but from the looks of it, she didn't feel the same. It stung his pride and his ego, but the stab in his heart was what surprised him the most.

"Uhm, yeah alright then. I'm…going to go. When you…decide what…uh if you need…I'm sure you'll figure it out. Seems you didn't need me to collect you after all." Harry tipped his imaginary hat and left Tonks to stand agape in the washroom.

He didn't want to step foot into the kitchen. He could hear bacon popping in the pan and Ron begging for a plate. It sounded like a delightful family affair, and he didn't wish to ruin it with his sour mood. He needed to leave. He needed Hermione.

"Harry? You're not leaving are you?" Andromeda Tonks called lightly from the doorjamb on the kitchen, worry etched in her brow.

She wiped her hands on her black apron and stepped toward him. Harry shook his head, one hand on the door handle. He paused, drawing a shaky breath and stepped onto the porch. He turned, staring into Andromeda's fretful dark eyes.

"You might want to check on Tonks. She's in a bit of a state. I'd help her, but she wants someone she loves by her side, and I don't fit the bill." Harry's shoulders hunched and Andromeda wanted nothing more to embrace the boy, but he was gone.

* * *

Molly Weasley was uncomfortable. She was an open minded witch, always had been. The question of her son's sexuality had never been an issue. However, seeing her Fred perched on Blaise Zabini's knee, being fed slices of bacon was not something she ever needed to witness.

She wondered if it was all in jest, considering Angelina and George were making quite a show of themselves. Angelina cuddled into George's lap, at the table no less, and giggled as she placed bits of egg scramble on his tongue. Not to be outdone, Fred ran his fingers through Blaise Zabini's hair, and whispered in his ear.

"Can we all, use our own chairs?" Molly waved her wooden spoon above her head before Arthur wrenched it from her clenched fist.

"Mmhmm, I'd love to be the meat in that sandwich." Astoria Greengrass growled, winking saucily toward Blaise and Fred before flouncing into the chair beside them.

Molly's mouth dropped open, her eyelids fluttering in shock. Arthur snorted and shook his head, ignoring all of their antics. He was used to the twins attempting to one-up each other, though the stakes had continued to rise as the relationship between Angelina and George came to light.

Astoria propped her head on her hand, fascinated with Fred and Blaise. She'd always suspected Blaise fancied blokes, but Fred was a bit of a surprise. He was obviously comfortable with Blaise's arm around his waist, which turned her on more than a little.

"Will Ron be joining us this morning?" Arthur valiantly attempted to draw attention away from his peculiar sons, casually munching a bit of toast and jam.

"I don't know. Harry sent an owl quite early and Ron hurried off." Astoria spun her spoon in cup of tea, not realising her mistake until too late.

"I'm going to assume Ronald visited your room prior to leaving." Molly frowned heavily, causing Astoria's dark eyes to widen.

"Oh yes, absolutely. He mentioned something about needing to accompany Harry to Andromeda's and I went straight back to my room to sleep." Astoria quickly shoved a slice of bacon into her mouth and scooped some fried potatoes and eggs onto her plate.

"And you Fred?" Molly was in special form and Arthur did not envy his sons.

"Mum, I don't even live here anymore. Honestly, and you call yourself my mother. You'd think my mum would know I live in a perfectly acceptable flat all to my lonesome." Fred sighed dramatically, allowing Blaise to wipe a bit of fried egg from the corner of his mouth.

"Hmph, well, I stopped by last night because Elliot wished to see you. Imagine my surprise when you weren't there."

"Spent the night with Blaise here. That isn't a problem…is it…mother?" Fred set his elbows on the table, and carefully folded his fingers together.

"I don't understand children these days. In our day, we didn't go about shagging everyone in sight. We courted properly and married. Your father was my first and only lover, but…"

"Mum, please…stop." George Weasley dropped his half eaten slice of bacon, completely aghast. "I know, Angelina and I should have gone about things differently, but I've apologised for it. We're engaged. We planned on announcing it sooner, but with the Hermione debacle, we decided to wait it out. If Fred and uhm Blaise here are happy, then we should be happy. We should also keep our sex lives to ourselves." Angelina's dark head bobbed furiously, in obvious agreement.

"Are you then? Happy?" Molly cleared her throat nervously, "Are you happy Fred?"

Fred shifted on Blaise Zabini's lap, ignoring the muted curse and heavy hand squeezing his thigh, as he considered his mother's question. He wasn't nearly as angry at his brother and former girlfriend as he used to be. He missed his closeness with his brother, but enjoyed differentiating himself at the same time. It was quite the conundrum.

"I'm not…unhappy, though I do take issue with Angelina." Fred turned to her, narrowing his brown eyes dangerously. "You _claimed_ you were not attracted to me, and yet, you're dating… _excuse me_ , engaged, to my identical brother. Explain."

Angelina Johnson nervously tucked a thick strand of black hair behind her ear. She was comforted by George's arm latched around her waist, but he couldn't help her now. She blinked her dark lashes, and licked her full lips.

"I'd rather not have this conversation in front of your mother, but you've always been impatient." Angelina steadied her gaze and met Fred's eyes. "It was never a matter of not liking you. I liked you quite a lot. In fact, I was absolutely gutted when I thought you'd been killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was never my intention to hurt you, however, seeing you with Blaise here, explains so much. I needed more, Fred. I didn't mean to fall in love with your brother, but I did."

George and Fred eyed one another, until finally Fred nodded slowly. Molly held her breath, and even Arthur paused with a bit of toast hanging from his lips. It looked as though the twins were having a silent conversation, which Molly wouldn't put passed them. It had driven her mad for most of their childhood.

"Alright. I suppose I can see that. Though, I'll have you know I'm the more…well endowed twin. Just ask Zabini here." Fred pointed over his shoulder with a bent thumb and wiggling eyebrows.

"I can't…really comment on…George's…er package, Fred." Blaise coughed into Fred's shoulder, absolutely positive if he could blush, he would have.

"Well, I should hope not, but just tell them how impressive mine is. At least, that's what you said this morning." Fred tossed his head with a wide grin.

"This is not appropriate breakfast conversation, not one bit." Molly fanned herself, her breakfast long forgotten.

* * *

Hermione Malfoy reeled from her new husband's confession. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink, her eyes shining with unrealized emotion. Her heart thudded furiously in her chest, and if she had been a different sort of witch, Hermione knew she would have cried.

Instead, she continuously cast furtive glances in his direction, while sipping the tea he'd forced upon her. She often gazed into the distance, yet the history of Athens was the furthest thing from her mind.

"What do we do now?" Hermione pulled on the hem of her indecently short sundress, nervously avoiding the pensive grey eyes across the bistro table.

"What do you mean? There's nothing to be done. You're my wife. I'll not have you researching Malfoy history in order to rectify the situation. I'm quite pleased with the situation." Draco crossed his long legs, and tapped his fingers on the table with displeasure.

"I wasn't…I meant your father. What do we do about your father? He hates me, he's always hated me. If I've a choice in the matter, I prefer not to be dead."

"He can't kill you. You're a Malfoy now. He could probably hex you a fair bit, but death, certainly not. His Pureblood upbringing would never allow him to do such a thing, unless it was during a time of war. Those set of edicts are a bit gray. We'll speak with my mother. She's been manipulating my father for ages." Draco waved his hand airily, completely unconcerned with facing his father for the first time in his life.

"Yes, I'd rather like to have a word with your mother, and let's not forget Blaise, Fred, Harry, Astoria…" Hermione continued, ticking off an incredibly long list of witches and wizards who would receive quite the tongue-lashing.

"Your father was at our wedding. Apparently he has a son, which means you have a brother." Draco distracted his wife, not wishing to argue with her. He'd prefer if they were still in bed, but Hermione had declared it necessary to eat.

"I don't know what you want me to say to that." Hermione stood, quickly gathering their plates to set them on the side table near the front door.

"I'd like you to acknowledge your wizarding family, Granger." Draco paused, sensing more than actually seeing her irritation. "Hermione, think of it this way. My father's prejudices and hatred would dissolve. I can't promise he'd immediately love you, but he wouldn't be able to deny your heritage."

"Oh, is that all? So you're saying I should just publically embrace the man who deserted me for the sake of propriety? Heaven forbid Lucius Malfoy admit his notions are completely antiquated, no I should deny the wonderful people who raised me to please a bigot." Hermione slammed her palms onto the buffet near the door, and took a slow, calming breath.

"You're infuriating. Did you know that? Of course you did, I forgot you know everything, but oh wait! That's right! A few days ago, you didn't even know who you were. Far be it from me to suggest you might like to know the man that aided in your making. Perhaps you'd learn he had a penchant for books, or ridiculously, obnoxious curly hair. Let's not forget the glaring little fact that's called your brother. Never had one of those before, let's just keep everything the same then yeah? My father will disown me, which doesn't even bother me. I don't care one wit, though I take issue with the idea my father, being the bastard that he is, would probably find a way to skirt the centuries old edicts and find a way to murder my wife. I suppose I shouldn't attempt to save her life since my wife is a Gryffindor and likes to do everything herself, just ask her!" Draco's face was contorted in absolute maniacal fury.

His cheeks were flushed and Hermione stared at him in wonder. It had been ages since she'd seen him this angry and once again, it was due to her. She should have realised he loved her ages ago, and part of her wondered if she had, and had simply dismissed it. Hermione never imagined she'd be the wife of Draco Malfoy.

" _Stop!" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive…"_

" _So? I'm not killing him, am I?" yelled Crabbe, throwing off Malfoy's restraining arm. "But if I can, I will, the Dark Lord wants him dead anyway, what's the diff..?"_

 _A jet of scarlet light shot past Harry by inches: Hermione had run around the corner behind him and sent a Stunning Spell straight at Crabbe's head. It would have missed if Malfoy had pulled him out of the way, but he hadn't._

" _It's that Mudblood!" Goyle growled, his lips forming the Killing Curse, but Malfoy was faster._

" _Avada Kedavra!" Draco kicked the unconscious Crabbe, and pushed past Harry in favour of grasping Hermione. "What the fuck are you doing here?! I didn't risk my life for you to end up here!"_

"I'll consider meeting with him. It's the best I can offer at the moment." Hermione's lashes fluttered a few times, as she gathered her senses.

There were still muddled moments, but Draco was slowly learning when they occurred. It was difficult for him to give her space, but he tried.

"Your sundress would start a riot." Draco came up behind her, refusing to allow her to escape. "I'd like to see you fat with child, with _my_ child." He bunched the crepe dress at her hips, silently daring her to deny him.

"I'm not ready to be a mother."

"You'll be ready. You'd read every book in the history of wizards and man to ensure your readiness. You'll force me to read them as well. After the child is born, you'll read every book on child rearing and tell everyone else they're doing it wrong. It will be delightful."

Hermione laughed, pushing against him, but her action did nothing more than inflame him. Her tight little bum pressed against his hardening cock, seemed to have that effect on him. She yelped when Draco swept her off her feet and laid her upon the four-poster bed.

"We're not going to see a bit of Athens, are we?" Hermione didn't struggle when he wrenched yet another outfit over her head, and climbed up her body.

"I've seen all I need to see. Honeymoons are for shagging, love." Draco nipped her throat, his eyes filled with lascivious intentions.

Hermione decided perhaps a guided tour of Athens could wait. The pale, blond structure towering over her was the best sight she'd seen in ages after all.

* * *

Andromeda Tonks rocked her daughter with a grimace on her face and a roll to her eyes. She tried to be sympathetic to her daughter's plight, but honestly, it was the girl's own fault. Andromeda had attempted to discuss Dora's tawdry relationship with Harry Potter, but Dora wouldn't hear of it. Well, look where it landed them.

She didn't have anything against Harry, he was a nice enough bloke. He had been incredibly brave during the War, and Andromeda knew if it weren't for him, they'd still be in the midst of a Dark Terror. However, she had already come to terms with the fact she would be doing the bulk of raising Teddy, adding another child to it was another matter entirely.

"Dora…" Andromeda patted her daughter's back with as much concern as she could muster under the circumstances.

"Mum, I know. There isn't anything you could say that I haven't already said to myself." Tonks wiped her cheeks and with a hiccup sat up.

"He'd be a good father if given the chance." Andromeda knew there was nothing Harry Potter wished for more than his own family. She knew the Weasleys had taken him in and loved him as their own, but their daughter was the real issue.

Ginny Weasley had abandoned Harry, in what many considered his hour of need. It was after the War, but the Chosen One had been plagued by night visions of a horrid sort. It had been Tonks who had comforted him, stayed beside him, and in doing so, had healed her own pain.

Andromeda didn't blame the Weasley girl, as the girl was young, but she suspected there would come a time when the girl returned. She wondered what Harry and Dora would do then, and perhaps that was the reason her daughter had pushed away the father of her unborn child.

Harry Potter stepped in the Burrow and immediately rubbed his eyes. He was fairly certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. It must have been the shock of his impending fatherhood.

"Yes Harry, Fred is perched on Zabini's lap. Come in then, at least there's a chair for you." George waved happily with a glint in his eye. "You could sit on mine if you like. Angelina wouldn't mind sharing, would you love?"

"Uhm no, that's alright. I'm fine." Harry had never sat in a chair that quickly in his entire life.

He allowed Molly to fill a plate for him, but his appetite was nonexistent. He sighed heavily, poking his pile of eggs with the tip of his finger. It was instinct to come to the Burrow when he was upset, but it was different now.

Ginny wasn't there to soothe his worries. Hermione wasn't there to tell him she'd look it up in some book. Ron wasn't even there, but only because he was having breakfast with Andromeda, but even when he was, Ron wasn't particularly helpful in such matters.

"Harry, dear…" Molly padded softly to his side and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, which was all it took.

Harry leaned into her side, quickly wiping his eyes. He hadn't meant to cry. He wasn't the sort of man that easily or readily cried. Molly didn't take issue with it, and the other Weasleys pretended their fried potatoes were much more interesting. Blaise Zabini took his cue from Fred, and sipped a piping hot cup of black coffee.

"Tonks is pregnant." Harry whispered into Molly's patchwork apron with a hiccup and a sniffle.

"Are…congratulations in order?" Molly Weasley kindly patted Harry's back, and smoothed his disastrous dark hair with the soft hand of a mother.

"I-I don't even know. She shouted at me, then she was quite mean. I mean, I know she loved Remis. She probably still does. I'm not asking her to…I've never asked her not to love him. I just thought…I thought she…" Harry hiccupped, his brow crinkling in confusion considering Blaise Zabini was licking Fred's earlobe.

"You wish her to care for you as well. She'd be a fool not too, Harry."

"I need Hermione." Harry whispered, his lips barely moving against Molly's breast.

"Aye, we all could use a bit of Hermione." Molly wiped Harry's damp cheeks with a tea towel and tossed it onto the table, ignoring the brunette seated near Arthur.

"Why must you talk about me like I'm not here?" Astoria grumbled, feeling completely dejected and left out in the midst of what seemed to be an intimate moment.

"Hmphf. If you're Hermione Granger I'll eat a garden gnome." Molly glared heavily over Harry's head, daring the girl to refute her words.

The astute matriarch didn't miss the instant guilt splashed across Blaise and Fred's faces either. She planned on speaking with her sons at length. She disliked deceit, especially within the confines of her own family, and from the looks of it, there had been plenty.


	16. Almost

Almost

* * *

"I don't want to go home." Draco mumbled into Hermione's throat, pinning her to the bed.

They had overstayed in Athens, by a handful of weeks, and missed their Portkey. Draco wasn't the least bit remorseful either. There were moments he still had trouble believing it wasn't some terrible, but wonderful dream.

Hermione didn't want to return anymore than he did, but she also knew it was inevitable. They couldn't avoid their friends and family forever. It caused more than a fair amount of anxiety, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"We can't stay here forever." She finally sighed, pushing her curls out of her mouth.

"Alright fine, but we don't have to go back either. We could travel. I know you've always wanted to travel. Tell me that doesn't sound appealing?" Draco nuzzled her throat, using his vast knowledge of her wants and needs against her in a moment of desperation.

"We shouldn't. You know we shouldn't. We should get straight out of this bed and requisition a Portkey. We should gather our friends and family and explain what's happened. We should beat Blaise and Fred to death, as well now that I think of it."

"Beat them to death? That sounds a bit harsh, love. Shouldn't we be thanking them? Without their intervention I'd be married to Astoria Greengrass instead of lying here completely naked with you."

"Don't you want answers, Malfoy? I mean, why did they do this? I'm not displeased with the end results, far from it, but I can't help but to wonder why? Also, how many of our friends know about the switch? I'm going to assume Ron isn't aware, but…" Hermione's words lodged in her throat, due to a soft pale hand stroking her bare thigh.

"I don't wish to speak of Weasley, Hermione. We've already discussed my dislike, haven't we?" Draco painted delicate circles on her thigh, smirking when she shivered.

She had tumbled into bed so many times during the past few weeks, Hermione was no longer able to count them. Her heart was fit to bursting from the force of her love for him. She also wanted answers, and it was driving her a bit mad not having them.

"When did you know you loved me?" Hermione whispered, rolling into his chest.

Her fingers strummed against his heart, and she tossed her leg over his hip to hold him still. For a moment, she thought her plan backfired due to the complete silence on his part. Draco drew a slow breath, and drew his hand from between her thighs to rest lightly on her waist.

It was difficult for him to express his emotions. It always had been. He knew if he had been able to voice his affections earlier, he would have been much happier, much sooner. It was the Malfoy way to maintain a stoic, somewhat apathetic façade, when in reality, their feelings ran deep.

"I was…always drawn to you, but I fought it. I didn't want to be drawn to you. I didn't want to be attracted to you. I definitely didn't want to respect you, but you really make that quite difficult. I realised my…affections ran deeper than mere seduction when Greyback had you in his clutches, but it was the Battle of Hogwarts that nearly did me in. I thought I was going to go mad when I spied you running amok with Potter and the Weasel. I was so angry, absolutely furious really, because the thought of losing you about fucking killed me." Draco's shaky sigh nearly broke her heart.

"And then I went and chose Ron." Hermione sniffled into his chest, desperately clutching him to her, and he held her just as tightly.

"I won in the end though, didn't I?"

Hermione bristled, her thoughts running away with themselves. She was fairly certain Draco Malfoy hadn't the slightest involvement in the switch, however when he said things such as that, she couldn't help but to wonder. Hermione knew he prided himself on being a Malfoy, and winning. He did so love to win.

"Y-you didn't have…"

"Granger, do you really think I would have hidden you away with Astoria's face of all things? I thank the Gods your body is still your body and the fact I can see you. No, I would have strutted about quite pleased with myself and taunted your former beau, that's the sort of man I am." It was a simple matter to climb between Hermione's thighs, and even easier to slide into her. "I think….Blaise….deserves…a lovely…thank you gift."

Draco sighed, grunting lightly as he moved between his wife's thighs. Her timid nature in the bedroom belied her forceful nature, which amused him more than a little. She wasn't demanding and stubborn while he stared down at her. She was full of tiny whimpers, desperately clutching him to her chest.

"What do you think happened to the little boy?" Hermione rested her head against his heart, soothed by the sound of the gentle beat of his heart, and sighed.

"What are you going on about now?" Draco groaned, absolutely positive his wife was attempting to send him to an early grave with her incessant questions.

Hermione huffed, quite dramatically actually, and pushed herself up onto her elbows. She glared down at the man who had captured her heart with exasperation. She had often wondered how Draco Malfoy had gotten so far in life while ignoring so much.

"The child who threw the powder that started this entire mess, of course. What do you think happened to him?" Hermione arched her eyebrows, waiting for an acceptable response, but Draco was at a loss.

Fact of the matter is, he hadn't spent more than a minute thinking of the boy. He vaguely recalled hearing Blaise speak of the boy, but he hadn't been paying much attention. Draco knew he was a bit self absorbed, but considering the circumstances, he believed it was to be expected.

"I suppose it's yet another thing we can ask Zabini, if we ever go home." He attempted to kiss her, but she avoided his lips with a small shake of her head.

"We've got to go home, Malfoy. It's time." Hermione sounded slightly sad at the prospect, and Draco was suddenly filled with dread.

Ever so slowly, he sat up, and Hermione followed suit. He reached forward and stroked her cheek with the pad of this thumb, studying her eyes with a sudden intensity. He observed the various emotions flickering through her familiar eyes, wishing he could pierce through her walls with a bit of Legilimency.

"Granger, I know I shouldn't call you that, but I can't help it. I don't want too…I can't…look, you're my wife. When we go home, you're still going to be my wife, except we're going to be faced with loads of opposition. I can't…I can't lose you, not again." He watched her eyes soften, just before he felt her light breath on his cheek.

"I've never backed down from a challenge before…"

"Liar." Draco whispered against her cheek, with a small smirk.

"You're right. I was…afraid, which is a terrible thing to admit when you're Gryffindor. I didn't want to face my makeshift family, or even the backlash of the Wizarding Community as a whole." Hermione managed to slide out of bed with a rumpled sheet wrapped firmly around her bare body. "It's different now, Malfoy. I'm still a bit anxious, filled with trepidation really, but I think I'm ready. As long as we stick together, I'd like to think we'd be alright."

"My wife the optimist." Draco chuckled, staring up at the ceiling before he leapt from the warmth of the bed. If they were ever going to leave, it was best to do it quickly before either of them lost their nerve.

* * *

Harry Potter scurried down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley with his collar pulled and his head down. How he had managed to escape the Burrow that day was anyone's guess. Astoria had exploded in a beautiful cacophony of sputters, which quickly turned to weeping the moment Ron stepped through the door. He shivered, dejectedly recalling the day Tonks had figuratively pierced his heart.

Molly had harrumphed, as was her nature and set about clearing the table. Arthur pretended there was nothing amiss and reclined before a sputtering fire with a glass of port disguised in a teacup. George and Angelina had disappeared in a flurry of giggles and whispers. It didn't take a genius to know what they were headed off to do.

Harry coughed lightly into his head as he recalled Fred and Blaise. He had believed their behaviours to be an intricate act for the sake of the other Weasleys, but as their flamboyance grew, it was obvious it wasn't a ruse. Their obvious ease with one another made him miss Tonks, and he wasn't ready to miss her.

He wanted to be angry, but he wasn't, not really. Harry wasn't familiar with feelings of hurt. He had spent years overcoming the upset involved with losing people he loved to death. He had spent years angrily seeking to thwart a great evil. He wasn't accustomed to having people walk out of his life by choice.

Harry had spent a fair amount of time avoiding Tonks, but it was inevitable that he would be forced to speak with her. Of course, he hadn't expected to literally bump into her in the midst of Diagon Alley, while actively avoiding her.

"Omph!" Nymphadora Tonks bounced off Harry, and nearly landed on the hard cobblestone.

Harry's Seeker reflexes caused him to grasp her forearms, and he steadied her before realising it was Tonks. He realised it was her the moment he spied her waning bubblegum pink hair, suddenly unsure. He wanted to embrace her as much as he wanted to shake her.

"Tonks." It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever said, but it escaped his lips just the same.

"Harry…" Nymphadora sighed, with a slight squeak to her voice as her hair tumbled down to her shoulders in a muddled shade of brown.

"You're alright then. Nice to see you. I've got to be going." Harry tipped his imaginary hat, sidestepping, so as to move passed her, but she grasped his arm.

"Please. I-I haven't seen you in weeks. I know I made a mess of things, Harry. Aunt Cissa has been staying with us since Tapestry Tea and it's been difficult." Nymphadora's voice continually rose, and Harry was quick to drag her into a darkened alcove.

He narrowed his eyes as he took in her disheveled appearance. It wasn't like her to look so completely out of sorts. While Tonks wasn't the sort of witch to spend copious amounts of time on her wardrobe and appearance, she always had a spark in her eye that made others overlook the rest. Harry hadn't seen her looking this drawn and pinched since the War, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

"You're a mess." He crossed his arms, only to keep from drawing her into them, and waited.

Nymphadora Tonks straightened her spine with determination, and scowled, though she didn't deny Harry's words. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time in bed after she had so callously disregarded Harry, and it showed. The darkened spots beneath her eyes, and her inability to properly use her magicks were the telltale signs of her displeasure with the situation.

"You didn't answer my owl." She jutted her chin forward in such a way it reminded him of Hermione, and Harry flinched.

"What was there to say?" Harry gazed down at her, but his green eyes softened as her bottom lip trembled.

"I was out of sorts. Everything is different now. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't intentionally trying to hurt you. How could I? I-I care about you, of course I do. I suppose I always assumed…" Tonks sighed heavily and took a long, slow breath.

Harry stepped toward her and yanked her Auror trench closed properly. He took his time buttoning her coat, realigning the haphazard mess she had made of things. He understood, yet he was being stubborn.

"You never thought we'd last is what you're saying. You thought I'd go running back to Ginny when…if she ever returned, and that would be the end of things. You never asked me. You never…wondered how I felt about it?" Harry's chin brushed the top of Nymphadora's head and he smiled slightly as he felt the tension leave her body as she sagged against him.

Harry was absolutely correct in his assumptions. Tonks cringed inwardly, realising how stupid she had been. She supposed part of her had been in denial. She had never planned on falling headlong into a relationship with Harry Potter after Remus had been killed. She hadn't planned on anything other than having a good cry until her heart no longer hurt.

Things didn't exactly work out that way, due to Harry. It had been an accident in the making, but Andromeda was always quick to point out the way Harry's eyes always managed to follow Nymphadora whenever she was near. There were whisperings of trouble in paradise as far as he and Ginny where concerned, but no one expected her to walk out on him.

"You can't blame me…" Tonks sniffled, unconsciously snuggling into Harry's hard chest.

"I can though. You really believed I'd do to you what was done to me. You honestly believed I was some…casual sort of bloke and I'd just cast you aside. I've never been like that. The people in my life are extraordinarily important to me, and yeah we started off as comfort, but it segued into something…more." Harry held her a bit tighter, mindful of the cool brick, suddenly aware of the slight mound pressing into his abdomen.

He closed his eyes, forcing the memories of Ginny Weasley's sad brown eyes from his head. She had been kind enough about it all, but it had still stung. It wasn't his fault he woke up screaming in the middle of the night. It wasn't his fault the faces of his friends and makeshift family danced across his eyelids whenever he attempted to sleep.

It was human nature to mourn, but at the same time, Harry hadn't been particularly supportive where Ginny's issued were concerned. She didn't want to admit the existence of the life debt her brother owed Draco Malfoy. She wanted to move forward, get married, and have children, while Harry wanted a bit of time to recover.

He'd spent a lifetime trying to find his place in the world only to discover he was barely more than a pawn in an intricate scheme to destroy Tom Riddle. It was enough to do anyone in, and if anyone could understand, Harry thought it would be Ginny. He honestly believed she'd understand his fears, considering she spent months with that blasted diary.

Harry knew they cared about each other. They probably always would, but Ginny had been gone for years. It was absurd to expect him to remain patiently waiting for her to return. Their relationship had been flawed, and it had hurt him immensely when she left, but he wasn't miserable any longer. Nymphadora Tonks had healed the fissures in his heart, and as he held her, felt her body against his, Harry realised he didn't wish to let her go.

"Remus left." Tonk's lips brushed Harry's throat as she struggled to whisper in his ear.

"Ginny left as well, but I'm not Remus and you're not Ginny. You can't even say Remus left, Tonks, he died, that's completely different. He didn't have a choice in the matter."

"Don't leave. Promise me. I'm…scared and I need you to promise." Harry flinched, not out of fear, but surprise. He'd never heard her admit to anything less than bravado.

"I swear." It was second nature to lean down and capture her trembling pouty lips, so that's exactly what he did.

"Don't swear." Neither Harry nor Tonks were expecting a condescending yet friendly voice to interrupt their heated snog.

Harry reluctantly released Nymphadora's eager lips in favour of glowering at the witch impatiently tapping her foot against the cobblestone. He refused to allow Tonks to move an inch as she was the cause of his throbbing erection. It was the last thing he wanted anyone to witness, and especially not the huffing woman with a smirk on her lips.

"Hermione."

* * *

Elliot the orphan crept along the creaky floors of the Burrow on tiptoe. He had learned relatively quickly how fast Molly Weasley appeared when she heard the slightest unfamiliar noise. He liked her well enough, that wasn't the problem.

Elliot was just particularly attached to Fred. He thought Blaise was quite a funny bloke as well. Elliot enjoyed the mothering to a certain extent, but what he wanted more than anything, was to see Fred. He was absolutely determined to use the Floo before Molly, or any other Weasley discovered he was skulking about.

He laughed to himself, two grubby hands covered his mouth, as the Floo came into sight. Elliot held his breath as he crept closer to the hearth, wincing as the hardwood creaked under his bare feet. He pulled on his homespun sweater that branded him a new Weasley, and dipped his fingers into the pot of Floo Powder.

"Elliot dear? Is that you? Would you like a bit of porridge?"

Elliot jumped into the Floo, closing his eyes, as if that would hide him from Molly's curious eyes. He stood completely still, silently willing her to go away, and miraculously she did. Elliot's shoulder's sagged as he threw the Floo Powder at his feet and shouted his destination.

He tumbled out of the Floo, slightly queasy and a bit green. It didn't look as though his constitution was going to improve anytime soon as he spied the strangest sight. Elliot didn't know what to make of it, as he'd never seen such a thing in all his life, but he'd heard of it.

"Is that how it works?" Elliot piped up from his position on the floor with large, curious eyes.

Fred Weasley's ear splitting shriek probably would have raised the dead if there had been any present. Blaise Zabini groaned and managed to cover the tent in his parted boxers when Fred clambered off his lap. He snickered as Fred covered his semi-nudity with a horrid pair of flowered draperies, while pretending nothing was amiss.

"Elliot! It's lovely to see you! Does mum know you're here?" Fred casually ran his fingers through his disheveled red hair as he avoided his young guest's eyes.

"I dunno. She'll figure it out. Hey were you and uh Blaise…making the sex?" Elliot flounced into a lumpy armchair and immediately propped his chin in his palm, rapt with interest.

"That is an inappropriate question." Fred stiffened and sniffed before turning to set the kettle on to boil.

"Well, his hand was down your…."

"Oi! Elliot, how about we send Molly an owl while Fred makes us some breakfast?" Blaise hastily struggled into his lounge pants and nearly dragged Elliot off by the ear.

"I thought boys and girls made the sex. I didn't know blokes made the sex with blokes. Does that mean one of you has to be the girl?" Elliot continued to yammer, even as he scribbled nearly illegible words on a scrap of parchment.

"Elliot," Blaise Zabini sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. "There's no need for you to worry about…making the sex. You're a small child, and when you're older it will be explained to you properly."

"I think Fred is the girl. Can blokes be a girl? Why are you making that face? I only said that cuz if Fred is the girl then he can be my mum is all." Elliot shrugged, leaving Blaise completely dumbfounded, and skipped to the kitchen in his bare, filthy feet.

Blaise scratched the stubble on his chin, and quickly pulled on a simple black cotton shirt before joining Fred and Elliot in the kitchen. It had become habit to stay in Fred's quaint flat, and he hadn't even considered returning to his own home. It wasn't usually in his nature to be so monogamous, but there was something about Fred that kept him enamored.

As for Fred Weasley, well, he wasn't absolutely positive Blaise was the sort of bloke to commit to anyone, but he wasn't against the idea. For the first time in his life, he felt free. He wasn't constrained by his family's expectations, nor was he cajoled to be more like his older brother Bill.

Fred loved Bill dearly, but that last thing he wanted was to marry some passable blonde witch and start having babies. It took him longer than most to discover his proclivities lied with men, but he accepted it relatively easily. It made sense to him, after a lifetime of feeling out of sorts. His family didn't seem to mind, and that was what had always mattered most to him.

"El, I can't be your mum. I'm a bloke." Fred set a plate of overscrambled eggs before the scrawny orphan with a smile laced with affection.

"But if blokes can make the sex, then they can be the mum too. I don't want to live at the Burrow. I likes it and all but Molly is always making me eat my vegetables and de-gnome the garden. I want to live with you." The small boy shoveled the eggs into his mouth, carefully hiding his distaste in order to offer up a pleading pout.

Fred sighed, and carefully adjusted the flowered drapes over his shoulder. He wasn't against the idea of having Elliot around. He really was exceedingly fond of the boy, but he couldn't imagine it going over well with the Ministry, considering his current residence.

It was a simple flat, decorated sparsely with ragtag furniture he'd picked up here and there over the years. It was perfectly reasonable for a bachelor to live in a one-bedroom walkup. It was quite another to raise a child without ample space.

Fred Weasley had socked away plenty of galleons. It was never a matter of affordability, he was simply comfortable in his space. He missed George at times, and he supposed it was why he had remained in the flat for so long.

"You know I haven't space for you here." Fred sat across from Elliot, while resisting the urge to wipe a bit of fried potato from the boy's cheek.

"Blaise has a house, a nice house. It has loads of rooms filled with nothing at all. I don't even need a full room. I've never had one, just a corner is fine. I won't be a bit of trouble. I promise." Elliot dropped his fork, as a hard lump formed in his throat.

Fred blinked slowly and glanced over Elliot's head to see Blaise frowning. He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly worried. The last thing he wanted was for Blaise to think he was pushing an agenda, but he definitely didn't hate the idea.

Blaise carefully squatted beside the scruffy boy and studied the fear in his eyes. He understood fear. He'd spent more of his life afraid. His mother was always bringing home some obnoxious wizard that delighted in torture. He had stopped counting the scars on his back before he grew his first chin hair.

Blaise was thankful to be Sorted into Slytherin, as it was only then that he finally knew he'd never be alone. Of course, the War broke out, and once more, he was afraid. He was afraid of being left completely alone, more than he feared the Dark Lord.

In the end, his mother had died and his friendships had dissipated. He'd managed to strike up a friendship with Draco Malfoy of all people, but only due to Hermione Granger's incessant prodding. She'd also taught him to consider being true to his nature. He took her words to heart, knowing she understood his plight, as she was Muggleborn. At least, he'd always believed she was Muggleborn, but now he knew differently.

"He's absolutely correct, Fred. I do have a lovely home and it's terribly empty and lonely. Why do you think I spend so much time here at your flat?" Blaise slammed his palm onto the rough wood and stood, glancing meaningfully at Fred.

He enjoyed Fred's company, more than any witch he'd ever tumbled, in his entire life. Blaise had struggled for years to come to terms with his predilections. His propensity for men wasn't a particularly popular lifestyle choice, but Fred had changed everything.

Fred wasn't interested in the galleons in his account at Gringotts. He wasn't interested in the prestige of, well anything really. Merlin knows there wasn't much celebrity where a Slytherin was concerned, unless one was a Malfoy. It was easy with Fred, and Blaise discovered it was something he wished to continue.

"Because I have more food than you, obviously." Fred rolled his eyes, and struggled to keep his fingers from walking across the shabby table and stroking Blaise's fingers.

"Aye, and the company is divine. Come on then, let's have Elliot go and pick his room." The question was never asked, but it was implied, which was all Fred Weasley and Elliot the Orphan needed.

* * *

Ron Weasley frowned heavily with pursed lips. He disliked his meal being interrupted. He was hungry, ravenous even, and yet his mother wished to discuss Hermione.

Every time he made a movement toward his fork, Molly thumped her youngest son on the head with her thick wooden spoon. Ron grunted, completely out of sorts. He'd already listened to all the hungover banter while he was at Andromeda's. Why he had to listen to it again was anyone's guess.

"Mum…"

"Ronald, I need you to listen to me. It's very important." Molly sat beside her son, studying his eyes carefully. "I know you're quite fond of…of…Hermione, but…"

"Mum." Ron grit his teeth and attempted to interject, but his mother wouldn't hear of it.

"Ron, it's best you let your mum say her peace." Arthur Weasley shook his head slowly and decided he's much rather spend the afternoon in his shed, tinkering with his Muggle artifacts.

Molly sighed, and quickly dabbed the corner of her eyes with her dark red apron. She hated to be the one to inform her son of the truth. However, it was her duty as a mother. She couldn't in good conscience watch her son fall in love with a witch that wasn't Hermione Granger. Molly knew Ron had loved Hermione from the time they were children. She knew it would crush him, but they had lived this lie long enough.

"I know you've been spending a lot of time with…Hermione. I know you're fond of her, love her even. As a mother, I know you haven't always been the gentleman I've raised you to be, but I pray you haven't ventured too far." Molly reached forward and grasped her son's hand, though Ron wasn't sure if it was out of desperation or to keep him from his fork. "Hermione…isn't…Hermione, Ron. I'm so sorry. I've suspected for a bit, but I needed to be sure and…"

"Yeah, mum, I know." Ron wrenched his hand free and grabbed at his fork, immediately scooping a forkful of stew into his mouth. "Apparently," Ron spoke around the morsel of meat between his lips without preamble, "there's a Charm we should have been using. Shame they didn't teach us such things at Hogwarts. Anyways, Astoria's pregnant and we're getting married. Pass the butter would you?" Ron choked on the bits of potato in his cheek when his mother slipped off the wobbly dining chair and fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.


	17. The Aftermath

The Aftermath

* * *

Hermione Malfoy studied her reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time that morning. She didn't see anything different about her appearance, but Draco was adamant it was changed. Vaguely, she wondered if it was the spell, and made a mental note to have an in-depth conversation with Blaise Zabini as soon as possible.

Her stomach was fluttering with the butterflies of nervousness. Their bags were packed with reluctance, and Draco set them by the door, with yet another groan. She understood his trepidation, as it mirrored her own.

Hermione would have loved to return home with a spring in her step and a smile, but she couldn't. She wanted her face back. She wanted her life back, but she didn't wish to relinquish her husband.

She smiled, and straightened the most modest dress she could find her in luggage. It wasn't particularly long, nor was it her style, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. The short silver skirt flared out from her waist, stopping just short of her knees. The semi-sheer black, lace, blouse bared more of Hermione than she preferred, but Draco seemed to like it.

She ignored the way he huffed while shoving his belongings in his bags. She pretended she hadn't heard him ask her to remain in Athens for just one more day. Hermione had fallen for that ruse twice before, and each time one day had spanned into twelve, which didn't even take into account their original fortnight. She'd lost count of the delays at this point, as it no longer mattered, not really. They finally had each other, and both were remiss to return to reality.

"Are you sure we can't…"

"Malfoy, you promised."

Draco encircled her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, with a small sigh. He knew he had promised. It didn't mean he didn't wish to change his mind. He wanted to buy a modest villa, and spend their remaining days far from their family and friends.

"I know, wife." Draco kissed her cheek lightly, and retreated, only to have her latch onto his hands.

"Say it again." Hermione whispered, studying his eyes in the mirror.

It hadn't taken her long to adjust to being his wife. It was easy when it was just the two of them. Everything was always easier when they were alone. It was adding others to the equation that caused issue.

"I love you. Don't forget now. We're going to miss our Portkey if you don't get a move on, wife. You'll never let me hear the end of it either." Draco swatted Hermione's bum, ignored her outrage, and casually opened the door.

He closed his eyes as the morning sun beat on his face. He squeezed the small hand that just so happened to slip into his own, and pulled her close. Draco preferred to keep her close. It made him feel a bit better knowing she was his, and could never properly escape. He knew it was a terrible thought to have really, but he didn't let it bother him. She was his now, and gods willing, she was carrying the next Malfoy heir, which would ensure her survival.

"It hasn't even arrived yet. I wish to go directly to Diagon Alley. I know your parents will be expecting us at the Manor, but I'm not ready for that just yet. There are a few things I need to pick up." Hermione gnawed the corner of her bottom lip, hoping he wouldn't refuse.

"Do you think…?"

"Malfoy. I-I don't know. I suppose, we'll discover it together?"

Draco nodded, quickly dislodging her lip from her teeth with a quick flick of his thumb. The last thing he wanted to do release her, but he did. He knew they only had a few moments left before their Portkey would arrive.

"It would make everything easier if you were…"

"I told you…" Hermione's shoulders slumped as a small diamondesque stone arrived near the tips of their shoes.

"I know. Regardless, we'll be alright. Hold tight." It had been his intention to simply cling to her hand, but Hermione had other ideas.

She leapt into his arms just as the Portkey activated in his palm. Draco nearly dropped it, but he was more concerned with keeping a firm hold on his wife. He disliked using a Portkey, always had, however, it wasn't quite so horrid with Hermione in his arms.

Draco lurched slightly, but kept hold of her when they landed near the outskirts of Malfoy Manor. He lowered his wife to the ground slowly, enjoying the feel of her body against his. He didn't glance over his shoulder toward his family home, instead keeping his eyes on her.

Hermione shivered slightly upon spying Malfoy Manor in the distance, and her stomach rolled with nervousness. She kept a firm grip on Draco's hand and withdrew her wand from her cloak. She was absolutely determined to visit Diagon Alley before being forced to face her in-laws.

"Ready?" She whispered with a slight tremble to her voice.

"Not in the least." Draco growled, but allowed her to Apparate them.

He disliked Side-Along-Apparition just as much as a Portkey, but what was done, was done. He always felt as though his insides were going to make an appearance on the outside, but they never did. He often recalled his father warning him he'd turn inside out if he wiggled during Side-Along. Despite the fact he knew now it was a lie, it didn't change his childish fears.

Draco threaded his fingers through Hermione's, knowing she would be marching with determination through the cobblestone streets. He didn't wish to lose her in a throng of curious witches and wizards. He was used to the scrutinization, but knew she wasn't, at least not the sort he drew.

Hermione huffed, irritated with Draco lagging behind her, but slowed anyway. It took her a moment to remember she was supposed to be Astoria. Astoria didn't scurry about. She moved slowly, with purpose. Pretending to be someone other than who she was, was going to be more difficult than Hermione originally thought.

She paused, watching the way curious eyes flitted over them, disliking their curiosity. Hermione was used to the celebrity that came along with being a war hero, but this was something different. This was disdain and mistrust, which caused her hackles to rise.

"Pretend you can't see them. It's easier that way." Draco read her easily, sensing her temper rising more than actually seeing it in action.

"They shouldn't look at you like that. You're a war hero as well. Without you…"

"They don't care. I'm a Malfoy. Come on, let's get this over with."

Hermione sighed lightly, and dutifully followed Draco toward an apothecary shop. It was better for them to fetch the ingredients themselves than to hazard a visit to St. Mungos. The idle chatter would spread faster than Fiendfyre.

"…I need you to promise."

Hermione stopped short, recognising Nymphadora Tonk's wobbly voice. She glanced into a darkened alcove and spied an unlikely sight. She looked to Draco with raised eyebrows, but he only shrugged, and rolled his eyes.

"I swear."

Hermione stomped her little foot, in its pretty silver shoe, upon hearing Harry's declaration. Draco groaned, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist interjecting. He wasn't the least bit surprised when she stepped forward, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot impatiently. It seemed his wife didn't care one wit that his cousin and her best friend were locking lips.

"Don't swear." No, Hermione was more concerned with Harry Potter's choice of words.

Draco inspected his fingernails with slitted eyes, filled with boredom. He hadn't the slightest desire to see his cousin in a compromising position with Harry bloody Potter, of all people. He'd seen plenty when he caught them shagging in the lavatory.

"Hermione." Harry Potter smiled widely, though Draco noticed the way he hid the front of his slacks behind Nymphadora's skirts, and smirked. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You knew? You knew and you didn't say anything to anyone?" Hermione Malfoy was instantly, and absolutely furious, as Harry could attest considering his mate was beating him about the head.

"Oi! Don't lecture me on propriety! I also knew about your little liaisons with Malfoy during the War, but I kept those to myself as well. Perhaps, instead of resorting to violence, you'd like me to tell you why." Harry snarled, easily capturing Hermione's flailing fists in his hand.

"Love, you're drawing a bit of an audience." Draco stepped into the alcove, and gently lifted his wife away from Harry.

He smoothed her dark hair with a loving hand, whispering against her cheek. Harry quirked his head to the side, and watched them curiously. Perhaps the switch was the best thing to happen to any of them.

"We should get out of here. We could uhm, go to my place, if you're alright with that." Nymphadora studied Harry, nearly on her toes, almost as if she were poised to run at the first hint of trouble.

"I have to stop at a shop first. It's important. We'll meet you there, and Harry you best be prepared to answer a plethora of questions. Don't worry, I'm not nearly as angry with you as I am with Blaise Zabini and Fred. Just wait until I get my hands on them." Hermione growled and flexed her fingers.

Harry retreated, mindful of her temper. There were some moments throughout the course of their friendship, he swore her temper was just as bad as Ron's. Of course, he could never tell her such things. He did enjoy the little things, such as breathing.

"Love, you're a bit flushed. You can smack Potter about later, promise. Nymphadora, make sure Potter remains until we've arrived." Draco practically dragged his wife away, but she didn't put up much resistance.

Hermione remained silent during the short jaunt to the apothecary shop. She was absolutely determined to ignore her husband. He had interfered, and while she knew he wasn't wrong, it made her feel better to slight him. She hated it when he was more logical than she, and this qualified as one of those instances.

Her fingers shook as she pulled the appropriate vials from the shelves, and she was grateful Draco didn't aid her. This was something she needed to do herself, something she needed to come to terms with on her own. She dragged her feet stepping to the counter, and she allowed Draco to purchase them without a fuss.

He knew she was struggling. Hermione was the sort of witch to argue when it came to most everything. She never allowed him, or anyone else to purchase that which she was perfectly capable of purchasing on her own. He carefully led her to the door, cringing as the bell jingled overhead, as they stepped back into Diagon Alley.

"We don't have to do this now. It can wait." Draco shoved the plain brown paper parcel into the interior pocket of his robes, before draping his arm around her waist.

"I need to know. Having a suspicion is one thing, and it was easy to push such thoughts away while we were in Athens. Now that we've returned home, all I can think about is your father's ire, and the protections afforded if…" Hermione couldn't even say the word, as it stuck it in her throat.

* * *

Blaise Zabini cleared his throat, covering his lips with a clenched fist. He was nervous, really nervous, which was completely unlike him. The thought of actually committing to one person, a bloke at that, made his heart pound ridiculously hard.

"I thought, perhaps we'd make this…a more…permanent arrangement." Blaise nodded, pleased with himself.

Fred Weasley pursed his lips. He crossed his arms, and even tapped his toe on the hardwood floor of the Burrow. It was easy to ignore his family's prying eyes, laced with curiosity.

"Is that your idea of a proposal? It is absolutely dismal. Don't think you're getting off that easy, Zabini. Where's my ring? Why aren't you on bended knee? What sort of wizard do you think I am? I am not some little hussy I'll have you know!"

Blaise grimaced, bracing himself for the tirade. He should have known better. He honestly didn't think Fred Weasley would want to wander around the Wizarding World sporting a ridiculously large engagement ring. Well, now he realised how incredibly wrong he had been.

"I want a wedding too! A real wedding, not one of those quick stop offs at the Ministry. And a dress and new robes while you're at it. Don't think we'll be living in that hovel you call a house either and…"

"Must you go all woman about this?" Blaise pleaded, desperate for relief, but Fred gave him none.

"If you're going to treat me like one, I'm going to act like one. I want a big, big wedding, with a flouncy white dress. I'm going to be a pretty, pretty princess. And a tiara. I've always wanted a tiara…" Fred continued to list his requirements off on his fingers, tossing his shoulder length red hair over his shoulder, while he paced.

"I've created a monster."

* * *

Harry dutifully followed Tonks into her mother's home, listening for the sounds of drunken witch laughter. He was surprised by the silence, but also relieved. He adored Teddy and Andromeda, but it was nearly impossible to have important conversations with a shrieking toddler and a meddling mother.

"They're not here. Mum has taken Teddy and gone to Malfoy Manor. I didn't ask why, and I needed the quiet." Tonks laid her trench coat over a pinstriped chair and waited.

Harry liked the way her silly little frock clung to her curves, and for a moment, all thoughts of serious conversation fled his mind. Tonks didn't help matters any by undoing the top few buttons of her blouse. He was definitely distracted by her markedly improved cleavage, and had the audacity to lick his lips.

"Come here." Harry greedily embraced her, immediately devouring her waiting plump lips.

"We're supposed to be…waiting for…" Tonks attempted to remember their task, but she'd never been one to interrupt a busy wizard.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion Hermione and Malfoy were going to take their sweet time. It had something to do with the way Malfoy looked at Hermione as though she were something to eat. He definitely didn't expect them anytime soon.

He probably should have carted her straight off to her bedroom, but he didn't. The sofa was so much closer, and much more convenient than two flights of stairs. They didn't bother with the little pleasantries.

It wasn't a matter of sensual lovemaking. It was ripped blouses, torn knickers, and frustration from being caught in uncooperative bits of clothing. Of course, the end result was the same, which simply culminated in two very bare people in the midst of the sitting room.

"Give it to me, Harry. I can't wait anymore." Tonks pushed Harry over, but he didn't mind.

"Come take it then." Harry growled and pulled her down into his lap, hissing as she sunk onto his throbbing cock.

"Oh gods, I missed this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Never listen to me again." Tonks yanked on Harry's ridiculous hair, her breasts nearly dislodging his spectacles, but he didn't mind.

His fingers dug into her hips, guiding her erratic movements until they were both writhing in pleasure. Harry latched onto a particularly hard crimson nipple and sucked hard, grazing it with his teeth. She moaned loudly, just the way he knew she would and smiled, knowing her end was imminent.

"I don't even feel any different, you're so pushy. I don't understand why we have to do this now. I just wanted to get the supplies to be prepared but…oh Merlin."

"For the love of all that is unholy, Potter. Why, why must you force this upon me? Do you think I enjoy seeing my cousin naked? I'll tell you what, I don't. It's ridiculous and hey, you're pregnant."

Harry groaned into Tonk's throat, but he was so incredibly close to the precipice, he couldn't stop even if he wanted too. Nymphadora covered her bare breasts, but that didn't do much, other than make them look even larger. It was with a mix of humiliation and release that Harry and Tonks crescendoed in a great culmination of grunts and groans.

As for Hermione and Draco, they had enough sense to turn their backs, yet the shock of the situation caused their feet to remain still. Hermione covered her eyes, wishing she had enough hands to plug her ears as well. Draco did nothing of the sort, he simply draped his arm over his wife's shoulders, and shuddered with revulsion.

"I told you we should have stopped home for a quick shag." Draco hissed, quickly leaning down and kissing his wife's tightly compressed lips.

"Oi, don't do that here." Harry grumbled upon spying Malfoy kiss his mate, while he struggled into his slacks. The hypocrisy of such a statement was completely lost on him.

"Harry Potter you impregnated Tonks. Don't even think of lecturing me on propriety after what I've just seen." Hermione tapped her foot, irritated with her mate.

"Ya well, you married Malfoy. I bet you'll be all fat with child too, just give it a bit." Harry shoved his head into his t-shirt, struggling to find his way out.

Nymphadora's bottom lip trembled, and Hermione was quick to help the older witch put on her frock. Hermione settled Tonks on the sofa, cringing as she ignored the lascivious activities that had taken place on it. She glowered at Harry, once he managed to free himself, but he shrugged in absolute confusion.

"You think…I'm…fat?" Tonks sniffled into Hermione's shoulder, unable to contain her emotions.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Draco rolled his expressive grey eyes before stomping off to the kitchen, muttering to himself about stupidity.

Harry finally understood his faux pas and hurried forward. He kneeled at Tonks feet, gently caressing her bare calf.

"Hey, stop it. Look, this isn't what…" Harry closed his eyes for a moment to focus his thoughts, and he grasped her trembling hand. "I missed you. I mean, I really missed you. I should have answered your owls, but I was being stubborn. I was determined to ignore you because of my pride, but I'd rather have you than my pride."

"If Potter's proposing, I'm leaving." Draco sauntered back into the sitting room with a small plate filled with cheese and crisps.

Tonks giggled into her hands as she watched Harry scramble to his feet. She hadn't any expectations of a proposal. She didn't have a plan at all, and that was what was so terrifying for her. She couldn't help but to reflect upon her relationship with Remus and how he had balked against their initial attraction. She didn't want to go through that again.

"Thanks Malfoy, but no, I wasn't, at least not now, but maybe some day. I don't imagine it'll be in her mother's sitting room after being caught in the midst of…in the middle of…"

"In flagrante." Hermione offered with a small smile. Her eyes however, were riveted on the thin slice of cheese Draco was nibbling upon.

"Yes that. Look. I love you. I don't care if you don't love me. I mean, I do…sort of…but I'm not going to push the issue. I didn't realise I did until you were gone, which is pretty awful of me, but you weren't exactly…"

"I know. I was awful. It was horrid. I regretted it the moment I said it." Tonks offered a tremulous smile, and Harry relaxed a bit.

"Wonderful, now that's all settled. Tonks could aid my wife in the loo for a moment?" Draco dangled a sliver of cheese in Hermione's direction, holding it just out of her reach.

The moment she leapt from the sofa, her head spun, and she clutched the arm in order to remain on her feet. Draco was quick to offer aid, his plate of vittles crashing to the floor, forgotten. He conjured a goblet of cool water, and pressed it to her lips, despite Hermione's grunts to the contrary.

"Would you stop fussing? I'm fine. I was just a bit dizzy. It was nothing."

Draco opened his mouth to argue with her, but Harry cleared his throat noisily. Instead, he slammed his teeth together with an audible click, and simply rubbed his wife's back. He didn't like anything about his current situation.

He would have much rather been home, in bed, with his wife. Instead, he'd witnessed Potter and his cousin shagging, and now he was being silently reprimanded. He lazily looked to Tonks and she shrugged, just as confused as he. At least he wasn't alone.

"Hermione, how long were you lot on holiday?" Harry avoided Hermione's intuitive eyes and set about cleaning the mess Draco Malfoy had left on the carpet.

"We were supposed to tour Athens for a fortnight, but we were uhm waylaid by a few weeks and…" Hermione blushed, leaving no doubts as to how they were delayed.

"Yeah," Harry interrupted, "but how many weeks?"

"The original fortnight, but six additional weeks, are you happy now?" Her cheeks were flaming, and Draco was highly amused.

"It must have been difficult to do all that shagging with your monthly interrupting." Harry tucked his wand into his back pocket, despite her glare, and winked at Tonks.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Since when do we discuss such personal things?! I'll have you know it interrupted nothing as it never arrived!"

The silence was deafening and Draco had enough sense not to outright guffaw. It wasn't often he was able to witness Hermione Granger being bested. In fact, besides the entire switching witches business, he couldn't recall it ever happening before. He thought it was a bit of a shame that it was Harry Potter doing the besting, but the end result was just as satisfying.

"Come along dear, let's take a look at those supplies, yeah?" Tonks deftly snatched the brown paper sack from beside the sofa and gently led Hermione to the washroom.

"I'm not ready." Hermione whispered, staring at the threadbare carpet as the truth sunk in, and the fear spread through her chest.

"Tell me about it. I've already got one and I'm still not ready."

* * *

Molly Weasley paced the length of her sitting room with a deep furrow to her brow. Arthur had enough sense to remain silent while his wife mumbled to herself, though he did happen to glance over at the two nervous people on the lumpy sofa, quite displeased. He and Molly had often had conversations about their children, and their inability to be proper witches and wizards.

They didn't judge Fred too harshly for his choices, but they would have preferred a Gryffindor, or even a nice Ravenclaw rather than a Slytherin. They only wanted what was best for their son, and they were hard-pressed to believe it was a wizard with a history of womanizing. At least they could agree Fred was ecstatically happy, and it was much better than seeing him in the depths of depression.

Arthur and Molly had lamented their only daughter's poor choices as well. She had a good thing with Harry Potter, but it hadn't been enough for her. They had honestly believed the two would marry and Harry would officially join their family. They were blindsided when Ginny said she couldn't do it anymore and left.

"They're trying to kill me, Arthur." Molly threw her hands into the air with exasperation, "I don't even know what to say to them! How could they have _been_ so stupid?"

Ron and Astoria sat side by side, their knees compressed tightly together and their hands folded in their laps. Ron had attempted to hold Astoria's hand for support, but his mother had been quick to smack him about the head.

"Now Molly, don't be too hasty…" Arthur's weathered hands were open palmed in silent supplication, but his furious wife paid no mind to such things.

"Hasty? Hasty you say? Hasty was Ronald thinking with his penis instead of…"

"MUM!" Ron's face was an abstract, yet splotchy shade of red, his bright blue eyes were exceedingly wide, filled with horror.

Astoria hid her face in her hands. Arthur wasn't quite sure if the poor girl was laughing or crying, and decided to keep such thoughts to himself. His job was to calm his fiery tempered wife. Arthur had many years of practice, but he knew when Molly was particularly irate, it was best to allow things to take their course.

"I should have known better." It was Astoria that broke through Molly's angry mutterings, causing the older witch to stop short in her pacing.

"Oh no my dear. You're an innocent bystander. Well, not completely innocent. You must admit you were a bit complacent, but there is only so much a witch can do in the face of seduction." Molly was quick to embrace the slight brunette witch, daring her youngest son to refute her words.

Ron's mouth gaped open, as he slapped his open palms on his thighs. He stood, lurching onto his large feet, prepared to deliver quite the tongue-lashing to his mother. Ron knew better than anyone that he was definitely _not_ the aggressor, and quite frankly, he was tired of being painted the villain.

"Ron, if I could have a word." Arthur Weasley drew himself up to his full height, and was quick to grasp his son's wand.

The last thing Arthur envisioned was his family drawing wands against each other. He grappled with his son for a moment, finally dragging Ron to the garden by his red ear. Arthur puffed a bit from the exertion, and took a moment to gather himself.

"Dad, you've got to be kidding me. Mum is in there blaming it all on me! It wasn't all me! I didn't do this on my own. I don't even understand why she's so angry. I bloody well told her we're getting married. She should be happy about it!" Ron waved his arms and moved to return to the sitting room, but Arthur stood in his way.

"Aye, I know Ron. Your mother was uhm, quite the aggressive little vixen in her day. She had a uh forceful nature about her. She was hard to resist, and I didn't try, not even a little." Arthur closed his eyes and smiled fondly over a memory Ron was grateful he didn't share.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Ron gagged lightly, but was interrupted by his brothers.

"Aww little Ickle Ronniekins is having sympathy pains already. Chin up mate, it just gets worse from here. Merlin, Brunch is certainly going to be an event this week." Fred and George in a rare joint appearance snorted in delight over their younger brother's green pallor.

"Oi, dad, don't drink the butterbeer. Everyone seems to be up the duff." George embraced his father quickly, giving Ron a shove.

"I'm not up the duff, thank you very much." Fred sniffed with disdain.

"Fred, son, it is a bit impossible you realise…." Arthur smiled gently, and braced himself for yet another Weasley outburst.

"Hmm, I suppose you're right. Astoria and Tonks, imagine that. I wonder if Hermione will be joining them. Circe, can you imagine the look on Ginny's face?" Fred covered his mouth and avoided the sharp elbow of his twin.

"Ginny's coming back?" The hopefulness in their father's face was a bit heartbreaking to say the least. Fred and George exchanged a look and simultaneously shrugged.

"Yeah, " said George. "She wants to win Harry back."


	18. Reverse

Reverse

* * *

Blaise Zabini slapped his hand to his forehead, frustrated. He knew better than to utter another word of discontentment however. He could feel Hermione Malfoy's eyes boring holes in his back, and didn't relish another anger filled confrontation.

Surprisingly, it was Fred who managed to diffuse the situation, and not with the expected humour. He simple bustled about providing various treats, and keeping everyone's cup filled with a delectable blend of tea. Fred knew it was in his best interest to remain uninvolved.

He hadn't created the spell, hell he hadn't even heard the spell. Hermione wasn't nearly as angry with him as she was with Blaise. Frankly, Fred didn't fully comprehend her anger. Everyone knew she was completely in love with Draco Malfoy before the switch, except for Ron. Ron liked to live in a world where Hermione Granger pined for him. The thought gave him comfort, as did his other delusions.

"I might have something." Blaise grumbled, wincing as the angry brunette witch stomped toward him.

"You said that last time, and then the cat exploded." Hermione's deep brown eyes were laced with an inferno, and Blaise fervently wished he'd never cast the ruddy spell.

"Malfoy, your wife…" Blaise growled, quite intent upon informing Malfoy exactly what he thought of his friend's new wife.

"Don't mate, just don't." Draco sighed, nearly slapping his forehead on the ornate dining table. He was constantly reminding himself, albeit silently, that he loved his wife. The chant seemed to be on a never-ending loop, especially when she began to argue with Blaise.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand her anger. She dragged me out of bed and threatened my cock. She should be thrilled. She's Mrs. Malfoy, and no one can take that away from her. And! She keeps eating all my fucking strawberries." Blaise slammed his fist on the table and stood, shoving his chair backward.

He crumpled the bit of parchment he had scribbled an awful reversal spell, and threw it across the room. Hermione watched it sail pass her head, completely nonplussed. She retreated to the sofa in the sitting room, quite ravenous. She dipped her fingers into the bowl of whipped cream wedged between her knees, and licked them clean.

"Here you go dear." Fred wafted into the room carefully carrying a bowl overflowing with fresh strawberries.

He set it beside Hermione, and casually stoked the dwindling fire. Strangely, Fred had settled into a domestic role quite easily. He knew his mother would be proud, as it seemed he had retained her instructions when it came to keeping a house. Of course, she never believed it would be her son doing the tending. She simply wished for him to clean up after himself.

"You're a lifesaver, Fred." Hermione sighed happily, and cuddled into one of the homespun Molly creations littering Blaise Zabini's sitting room. "Is that a…I mean, do I see…" Hermione sputtered for a moment, startled to see a particularly large diamond affixed to the third finger of Fred's hand.

She looked to Draco, but he was ignoring her with his face on the table. Hermione then turned to Blaise, but he was suddenly incredibly interested in that crumpled bit of parchment he had tossed, and was scouring the floor for it. In the end, she gazed upon Fred expectantly, and he smiled grandly.

"Engagement ring? Is that what you meant to ask? Why yes, yes it is, Mrs. Malfoy." Fred preened wiggling his fingers near Hermione's face.

"Fred." Blaise growled, but Fred shook his long red hair, and completely ignored the man.

"Never thought you'd settle down, Zabini." Draco snickered. It amused him to see Blaise so out of sorts. He honestly didn't give two shits how Blaise got his jollies, but he was still surprised.

"Look. Elliot, who should be sleeping instead of attempting to sneak downstairs, and steal more strawberries," Blaise raised his voice, and the others laughed lightly upon hearing the thundering sound of a child's feet racing in the opposite direction, "he wishes to live with us. Molly's all for it, but the Ministry refuses to allow us proper custody. We're single blokes and Granger, you know better than anyone the antiquated, ridiculous laws the Ministry clings too. We looked over the paperwork proper and nowhere where does it say the married couple must be a witch and a wizard. I suggested we tie the knot and well, there you go." Blaise sighed and stared at the ceiling, bracing himself for peals of laughter that did not come.

"Wonderful. Have you set a date? Do you have a colour scheme? I do hope you're not planning a summer wedding…" Hermione trailed off, her cheeks suddenly exceedingly pink.

"Did you actually propose and all?" Draco was suddenly curious and segued into the sitting room to perch upon the arm of Hermione's settee.

"Oh yes, he did. At the Burrow. During brunch. In front of my entire family. I mean, he didn't have a ring and I had to shout at him a bit, but in the end, I got my ring now didn't I?" Fred crossed his arms and harrumphed loudly.

"Fred wishes to be a princess. Perhaps your wife can aid him with that? Where does one take a bloke who wishes to be a princess…shopping for a wedding….gown?" Blaise spread his hands, and Draco would have laughed, but he didn't want to upset, well any of them really.

"Granger's pregnant." Draco stole one of Hermione's dwindling strawberries, completely risking her wrath.

"Oh who isn't these days? Tonks is having Potter's spawn, Astoria is carting around the next Weasley. Next thing you know Fred here…"

"I'll cut off your cock." Fred threatened, immediately brandishing his wand and thrusting it against the apex of Blaise's slacks.

"You're so violent."

"You never complained before." Fred huffed, stalking from the sitting room.

He paused, glancing at the bits and pieces of ripped parchment littering the table. He studied the few words that were legible and nodded. Fred had written plenty of spells with George, and from the looks of it, this one would be an easy fix. He wondered how angry Hermione would be to discover he could have solved the issue almost immediately.

"I told you I didn't need your help." Blaise hurried forward and covered the parchment with his large hands, suddenly embarrassed.

He barely remembered writing the spell in the first place, and now that it was time to reverse its effects, he was quite disheartened by his lack of progress. He was prideful wizard, always had been. The very idea that Blaise Zabini was more than capable of creating a spell, but utter shite when it came to reversing it, pricked his pride.

"You do realise George and I have written many a spell. How on earth do you think we've created so many new products at the Joke Shop?" Fred laid his hand upon Zabini's forearm, his brown eyes filled with concern, rather than amusement or contempt.

"I know," Blaise sighed, "it's just…I'd rather like to fix this myself. I mean, I created it, why can't I remember what the hell I did?" His chin nearly touched his chest as his confession spilled forth, and Fred embraced his fiancé in a fierce hug.

"Silly man, you were completely pissed of course. Malfoy, break out the Ogden's!"

* * *

Ginny Weasley's smile was as wide as the Cheshire Cat, her stomach aflutter with butterflies of anxiety. Her homecoming hadn't gone exactly as planned, but finally, she was home. She couldn't have been happier, which was a lie.

She missed Harry desperately and intended on winning him back. Ginny knew she had made a mistake nearly the moment she had left, but her stubborn nature had refused to allow her to return and apologise. It was her worst quality, and she knew it.

She was her mother's daughter, and her father's daughter as well. While her family wasn't especially prideful, except for Percy, they were exceedingly stubborn. It was difficult to forge a relationship in the aftermath of the war, and Ginny hadn't been quite as understanding as she expected Harry to be.

She adjusted her long dark cloak, and pushed her long, shiny red hair over her shoulder. Ginny gazed down at the Burrow, feelings of longing bubbling in her chest. She had missed them desperately, but her last conversation with Harry still burned in her heart.

" _I can't do this anymore." Ginny sighed as she watched Harry climb from their bed in the middle of the night._

 _She knew he was breathing heavily, and his torso was covered in a light film of sticky sweat. She'd felt him thrashing about and moaning, silently willing him to stop. He never did, but she always hoped._

" _Gin, do we have to do this now?" Harry hunched over the chair in the corner, struggling to find his robe, with slow raspy breaths._

 _Ginny heard the resignation in his voice, the underlying sadness. It bothered her, knowing he was just as miserable as she, but what could she do about it? Harry didn't want to talk about his nightmares, and he barely listened when she spoke of hers._

 _She had believed he would understand better than anyone how she felt. There were moments when she swore she could still hear Tom Riddle's voice in her head. She was terrified of cracking the binding on an empty journal, even knowing that Harry had ended Voldemort. Ginny carried it with her, and she wanted Harry to understand._

 _She wanted him to ask her why she was crying. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her it would be alright. She supposed, he wished for the same, and neither of them moved toward comforting the other._

" _Now is good, Harry. It's the best time actually. It's the only time I know you're listening to me. This isn't working. We're not working, Harry. I'm crying in the loo, and you're screaming in your sleep." Ginny held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to say anything, but he didn't._

 _Harry shrugged into his robe, and tied it tightly at his hips. In the lowlight of the moon, she could see the shine on his chest when he shuffled back toward the bed. He stared at her for a moment, and shook his head. Harry stroked her cheek, turned his back, and left their bedroom._

 _It was a defining moment for Ginny. She had needed something, anything, and Harry had retreated into his own mind, rather than acknowledge her. She scrambled from the bed, lit the lamp on the bedside table, and cried into her hands._

 _Ginny gathered her belongings quickly, while Harry was doing whatever it was he was doing. She wiped angry tears from her cheeks, wondering if he'd even notice she was gone. She scribbled a hasty note and left it on his pillow before Apparating to parts unknown._

"Mama?"

Ginny smiled down at the small boy at her side, and squeezed his hand. He had changed her life. She didn't know who she would be without him, but she most definitely wouldn't be standing on the edge of the Burrow wards, preparing to go home.

"Yes baby, just, give mummy a moment…alright?"

He smiled when she ruffled his thick, wavy black hair and was content to watch the tall grasses sway in the stiff breeze. He giggled to himself when a butterfly hovered in front of his nose. His cheeks were rosy from the chill in the air, but he didn't mind.

He had listened to his mummy talk about the Burrow since before he was born, not that he remembered. He was excited to meet new people. He stretched onto his toes and sniffed the air, absolutely certain he smelled chocolate.

It took him a bit, but he managed to free his chubby hand from his mother's hold. He stayed relatively close, knowing his mummy didn't like it when he strayed too far. The scent of chocolate was calling him however, and it didn't take long for his short, chubby legs to carry him down the long hill to the strange looking house.

He squealed with awe and delight when a garden gnome ran through the grass. He was tempted to chase it, but the door to the strange house opened. He stood still, quietly watching the humming lady with the apron. She had red hair just like his mummy, and he looked over his shoulder.

"Oh my! Hello there, are you lost little one?" Molly Weasley gasped upon spying a strange little boy near her garden, but she didn't want to frighten him.

She hoped his parents were nearby. She knew he had to be a magical child, as the Burrow had been warded against discovery from Muggles for ages. Molly thought she saw a woman in the distance, but her eyes weren't what they used to be, so she couldn't be sure.

"Mummy o'er dare." The little boy pointed up the hill, just in time to see his mummy shouting as though she were mental. "Uh oh." He turned from the friendly woman with the fading red hair to hurry back to his mummy.

Molly followed him, keeping a safe distance. She was curious to see the child's mother. It wasn't often, if ever, that anyone had accidentally wandered through the wards of the Burrow. She was remiss to simply allow a small child to wander off alone.

"Gideon! You can't do that! You can't just wander off and not tell me! You could get lost!" Ginny was nearly in tears as she hugged her son to her chest, inhaling the familiar scent of baby powder.

She hadn't noticed her mother ambling up the hill. She was more concerned with her child's safety, just as it should be. After all, if it hadn't been for the birth of her child, Ginny Weasley doubted she would have ever returned to the Burrow. Gideon forced her to grow up and realise her errors, and now, Ginny wished to correct them.

"G-Ginny?" Molly Weasley sobbed the word, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of climbing the bloody hill.

Ginny opened her eyes and stood slowly, anchoring Gideon to her hip. The toddler waved happily at the rosy-cheeked older woman, swinging his legs. He was an easygoing sort of child, which suited Ginny's temperament perfectly.

"Hi mum."

* * *

Draco Malfoy should have been in his modest home in Lyme Regis, shagging his wife until she could no longer walk. Instead, he was standing outside the door to the loo, begging his wife to let him in. She wouldn't, he knew she wouldn't, but he hated to see her out of sorts.

"I'm fine, Malfoy." Hermione called through the door, choking back another bout of bile that wished to make an appearance.

"You're a terrible liar." Draco rolled his eyes and slouched against the door.

He could hear the water running, and knew she was splashing water on her face. It was the sort of moment that reminded him of their time at Hogwarts, or even the summer spent at the Burrow. He didn't enjoy recalling the years when he couldn't be by her side, but such was life.

Draco snorted with a bit of mischief, vaguely wondering what Weaselbee's reaction would be to waking beside Astoria, rather than Hermione. He fervently wished it would come to blows. Draco regretted not fighting harder for her, for allowing his father to frighten him. Those days were over, and if he was forced to confront his father, so be it.

Hermione peeked her head into the corridor and spied Draco patiently waiting for her. She latched onto the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him into the washroom. Draco yelped in surprise, which was quickly cut off by the feel of his wife's lips upon his own.

He concentrated on the taste of spearmint toothpaste and warm hands on his face. Things had been tense between them since they happened upon Tonks and Harry in flagrante. Their conversations had been stilted, and Draco knew she was fraught with worry.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't have more than a little anxiety. Draco was completely over the moon knowing he had in fact, married Hermione Granger. A child? Well, a child with the woman you've loved for years, is more than he could hope for.

Draco was concerned as to his father's responses. Lucius Malfoy wasn't known for his even temperament. He was known for hexing, jinxing, and Dark Magic. Even while Hermione was pressed against him, he thoughts strayed to a confrontation with his father.

"You're distracted." Hermione grumbled against his throat, her teeth nipping him lightly.

Draco blinked heavily, soon realising his feisty wife had unbuttoned his shirt, as well as undone his belt. She wasn't normally the kind of woman who would be willing to have a quick shag in the washroom, but he wasn't about to stop her. She hadn't allowed him to touch her since their return from Greece, and it was driving him a bit mad.

"I'm definitely distracted now…" Draco made quick work of Hermione's blouse, hissing when she reached into his slacks and grasped his length. "Not that…I'm complaining…but uh what brought this on?" Draco's head flopped onto her shoulder as she stroked him, forcing groans in his throat.

"I feel absolutely unsexy. I'm going to get huge and completely unattractive. I need this." Hermione tweaked his left nipple and licked up his chest, pushing further thoughts from his mind.

He made short work of her knickers, vaguely wondering if she had been wearing slacks or a skirt. Draco lifted his still slight wife and set her on the edge of the sink basin. She frowned heavily, which quickly turned to wide-eyed bliss when he sunk to his knees and buried his face between her thighs.

Her hips jerked with every languid stroke of his tongue. Her pants were slowly seguing into keens, even as she threw her head back and smashed it into the mirror. Draco latched onto her breast, his teeth teasing her rigid peaks until she nearly cried. A few quick strokes of his long fingers and Hermione was shaking, her arms trembling, and losing their strength as she cried out.

Draco easily impaled her during the midst of her orgasm, shuddering as her slick body brushed across his chest. He bit her neck, only to smother his own cries of elation and completion. His fingers sunk into her hips as he wrenched her forward, his breaths escaping in great puffs and groans.

Hermione moved with him, urging him faster as she felt another wave of orgasmic bliss shudder through her weary muscles. Draco kissed her, hard and bruising, their tongues coming together in a perfect symphony while their bodies tensed during those scant seconds of release.

"Yeah alright, and I'm nasty for shagging on the sofa. I see how it is." Harry Potter scoffed outside the loo, just loud enough for the occupants to hear him.

He shook his head and marched straight back to Zabini's sitting room to the sounds of Nymphadora's peals of laughter. He watched her chat with Fred and Blaise, and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. His gaze dropped to the gentle rounding of her abdomen and he smiled. It was then, Harry realised he didn't want anyone other than her.

"Potter, you've returned empty handed…" Blaise mocked him with a wink.

"They're shagging in your washroom."

Fred and George faux gagged at the thought, while Angelina and Tonks giggled together. George's eyes narrowed upon spying Angelina placing her hands on the other witch's stomach and nearly blushing. His fiancée abruptly straightened the moment her eyes flicked toward George.

"I think we're all going to miserable for the next half year or so. Perhaps not Blaise, unless magicks have advanced exponentially." Harry chuckled and tossed his arm around his girl's shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"I'm…I'm…going to be a father…." George's knees wobbled and he was quick to sit before his limbs gave out. "There must be something in the air, or the water, or…"

"Oh please, the lot of you shag like rabbits." Blaise was quick to interrupt a seemingly distraught George. "Granger!" Blaise bellowed down the corridor, anxious to utilise the Reversal Spell.

It would have been impossible without the aid of the twins. They were absolutely correct, or rather, Fred was correct, in that Blaise needed to be slightly intoxicated to remember. They attributed it to many things, but he wasn't paying attention. His excitement was high, and he hoped it worked.

"Tosser." Draco grumbled the moment he stepped into the sitting room, completely ignoring the presence of Harry Potter.

"Hey, this is important mate. I think…er…rather, we think, we've done it." Blaise quickly corrected himself as Fred and George coughed quite loudly in objection.

Hermione hurried into the room, still buttoning her blouse, which escaped no ones attention, but they pretended they couldn't see such things. Her lacy bra caused the men to find sudden interest with the ceiling, while Tonks and Angelina giggled.

"Honestly, are we eleven? You've all seen a bra before, except perhaps Fred…" She pushed her dark waves off her face, and casually sat in Draco's lap. "Where the hell is Astoria? We can't do this without her."

"I'm here! I'm here! Sorry, we got…held up." Astoria Greengrass blushed prettily, and Ron refrained from sneering in Draco's direction.

He still didn't much like the bloke, but he really was quite happy with Astoria. He loved her more than he had ever thought he'd loved Hermione. He wasn't sure it made sense, but it did to him, and that was all that mattered. They were well suited to each other. Astoria was passionate in all the ways he was passionate, and most of their squabbles carried them straight to the bedroom, and after that, how could he complain?

"They were shagging." Fred and George spoke together, and wiggled their red eyebrows in their youngest brother's direction.

"I believe we're all adults here." Ron attempted to be the adult in the bunch, but it failed miserably when the group of Gryffindors and Slytherins fell into raucous laughter.

"Idiots, the lot of you." Hermione sighed, and snuggled into Draco's side, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and expensive musky cologne. Tears pricked her eyes, as she realised she had almost lost him.

"Dammit Weasley, look what you've done!" Draco was quick to comfort his wife, kissing her forehead and holding her tight, with a protective sort of glare toward Ron.

A series of loud raps on the front door of Blaise Zabini's home startled the group. Mentally, they counted the witches and wizards present, soon realising they weren't expecting anyone else. Blaise was already a bit chuffed as his home suddenly seemed quite small. It was to be expected when marrying a Weasley, and Blaise was quick to admit they'd need a bigger house.

His impressively large hand was reaching for the door handle, when the oak split at the jamb and bounced off his head. Blaise was slammed into the wall. His vision blurred as he slid to the floor, though, he was aware of the clip of shoes across his pristine hardwood.

"What. Have. We. Here."

Lucius Malfoy's cane thumped against the hardwood with every step he took. He surveyed the ragtag group with practiced apathy laced with derision. His eyes narrowed upon witnessing his son upon an armchair with a tired brunette witch in his arms. The hooded grey eyes squinted, and the corner of his upper lip twitched, as it ached to curl against the sight.

"Mr. Malfoy." Blaise Zabini stumbled to his feet, wobbling slightly, even as he rubbed the goose egg on the back of his skull.

"Imagine my surprise," Lucius spat, ignoring Blaise completely, "when I learned my son had returned from his holiday. It just so happens to coincide with your mother and her sister sneaking into the Manor with the Black Family Tapestry. I suppose they believed I hadn't known it was scurried away in one of your mother's many rooms." Lucius sniffed with disdain while he glared at his only son and heir.

"Is there a point to this? We're a bit busy at the moment." Draco sneered at his father for the first time in his life, holding his wife just a bit tighter.

"Ah, it seems my son has finally discovered his backbone, isn't that…delightful." The scorn in his voice made it obvious Lucius did not find anything delightful at that moment. "As I was saying…being that your mother and…Andromeda were utterly and completely befuddled, they did not notice when I unfurled the Tapestry to gaze upon my son's name etched in beautiful golden thread. I'm sure you are able to discern what happened next…Draco?"

"Mother lost the contents of her stomach on your shoes?" Draco's indolent blink truly was a sight to behold, and the twins struggled to maintain their composure.

"I see you've been spending your time with…Weasleys. Your immature attempt at humour is evident of that. Ms. Granger, perhaps you can answer my question." Lucius hissed, staring hard at the woman enfolded in his son's lap.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean, Mr. Malfoy." Astoria quickly stepped forward, despite Ron grappling for her hands.

Lucius Malfoy's long platinum hair whipped around his head as he spun on his heel, his wand drawn quicker than anyone anticipated. Of course, nearly everyone present, sans Hermione and Draco, not only drew their wands, but, had them pointed toward various parts of Lucius Malfoy's body. He sneered, as only he could, and slowly lowered his wand to his side.

"Do you take me for a fool Ms. Greengrass? Did you think I would not see the similarities between you and Ms. …Granger? Did you think she would come away unscathed?"

"It's Mrs. Malfoy." Hermione Malfoy slowly climbed out of her husband's lap, despite his silent protests.

She knew she was safe. She was surrounded by Aurors, Slytherins, and Weasleys, not to mention her own magical accomplishments. She was no longer afraid of Lucius Malfoy, and strangely, it was due to Draco's reaction to his father. If Draco had quaked or even balked in the face of confrontation, perhaps Hermione would have hesitated. His strength, gave her strength, allowing her confront her father-in-law, with a jutted chin and fire in her eyes.

"The Ministry frowns upon fraud, you inconsequential wretch." Lucius Malfoy's rage caused his cheeks to pinken, and the tic under his eye really was quite a nice touch.

"Hmm yes, if there actually was fraud. In order for such things to be proven before the Wizengamot, statements would need to be taken, especially those of your wife. Let's not forget about Professor Snape, shall we? For he _was_ the overseer of the ceremony, in fact, he was present when my magic signed the parchment." Hermione crossed her arms just beneath her breasts, daring Lucius to refute her words.

"You're so fucking sexy when you're angry." Draco stood just behind her, breathing his whisper directly into her ear.

Blaise Zabini exchanged worried glances with Fred, but it was Harry's silent communications that made him venture forward. Personally, Blaise believed it to be a terrible time to switch the witches, but he did as he was bid. He crept forward, surreptitiously standing between Astoria and Hermione while he drew his wand and whispered the words, praying they worked.

" _Make it right, Make them real, Switch the witch, Not how they feel."_

Hermione and Astoria gasped in unison. The magic in the air was nearly palpable, and Hermione swore she could see the wisps of colour swirling over her head. Instead, she leaned against Draco for strength, and Astoria did the same with Ron. Eventually she drew a full breath and immediately touched her face.

"It worked. Thank, Merlin, I was certain Granger was going to castrate me if I blew up another cat." Blaise hugged Fred and even kissed his cheek, while George bounced on his toes in elation.

"Draco, you're going to allow your little chit to speak to me in such a manner? I raised you better than this. You were always destined for greatness and…"

Lucius puffed out his chest, ignoring the facial changes, as they meant nothing to him. He now knew the truth, and it did not soften his heart in the least. In fact, he was more than prepared to continue with his litany, until his son's hands slowly came around Hermione to rest just below her navel.

"I don't care. You can't touch her. She's carrying my heir." Draco kissed Hermione's cheek, completely deflating her slowly simmering rage.

Harry was slightly preoccupied, considering Ron was kissing his way across Astoria's cheeks. It was lovely to see his best mate completely enamored with a witch that wasn't Hermione. He was happy for his friend, and happy for himself as well, despite the presence of a cantankerous Lucius Malfoy.

"I love you." Harry whispered to Tonks in the midst of the bedlam.

Fred, George, and Blaise were holding hands and leaping in a circle. Angelina was shaking her head, clutching her stomach with mirth. Tonks leaned into Harry, and he heard the soft sigh escape her full lips.

"Really?" Her bottom lip trembled, and Harry knew she was fighting off yet another tidal wave of tears.

"Really." Harry kissed her then, keeping it light, but it didn't stop the mixed company from their faux gags and childish laughter.

"I'm going to be ill." Lucius sniffed with disdain.

He shivered in revulsion as realisation descended upon him. Despite all his best efforts, Lucius Malfoy was going to become closely related to Harry Potter. It was almost as bad as his son marrying Hermione Granger.

"You'll get used to it, Father. If Tonks marries Potter, does that make Potter my cousin?" Draco taunted his father with a twinkle in his grey eyes.

"Enough! I shall not discuss such things."

"It's alright Uncle Lucius, just think of how brilliant your grandchildren will be." Harry winked at Hermione, while Lucius gasped in abject horror.

"Tell me, son. Were you aware of her identity when you spoke vows?" Lucius was practically begging for an out, but Draco knew his father, and knew him well.

"Actually, Father, I wasn't, but I knew something was amiss. In fact, my wife's identity didn't become glaringly clear until our wedding night…" Draco allowed the unspoken words to hang in the air, his chin casually resting on Hermione's shoulder.

"Is she…truly…with child?" Lucius uttered the words quietly, toying with the words on his tongue.

His shoulders slumped, and he stamped his cane upon the ground, knowing the answer before it was ever uttered. Lucius now knew his son's wife was a virgin, which was discovered during consummation. Lucius was well aware of the fact Astoria Greengrass was as virginal as he.

"What sort of person would lie about something like that?" Hermione interjected, quite angry at the accusation.

"Slytherins." Blaise, Fred, George, and Harry quickly offered with an apologetic shrug.

"I'm not Slytherin. I would never. I took the Potions. I said the necessary spells. How dare you suggest I would lie!" Hermione stamped her feet, her dark hair bouncing.

It really was a terrible idea to jostle herself in such a fashion, considering the delicate nature of her stomach. The liquid contents did not enjoy being jostled about, forcing Hermione to gag into her hand. She took a deep breath, reminding her body to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, but it wasn't particularly helpful in the moment.

Lucius Malfoy's sneer fell from his aristocratic features. He carefully took in her slightly green pallor, curious as to the pink flush on her cheeks. Her eyes, while big, dark, and brown were also incredibly weary. It was obvious she was exhausted, and Lucius knew then, the words were true.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. There was nothing to be done. It wouldn't do to hex the girl. His son would never forgive him if a single hair on her head were harmed. It was ridiculously obvious his son was completely in love with the girl.

"Well, I suppose that's that then." With a flourish of black robes, Lucius Malfoy nodded quickly to Draco _and_ Hermione. "Your mother will expect you to visit posthaste. Do not disappoint her. I refuse to tolerate another drunken episode."

Draco blinked, and Lucius Malfoy was gone. Hermione sagged in Draco's arms, disbelief evident in her shining brown eyes. She didn't trust Lucius, but he hadn't hexed her, or done anything more than be…himself really.

"I…don't know what to think about any of that." Draco scratched his head, carefully resuming his position on the sofa chair and dragged Hermione down with him.

"Who cares?" Ron Weasley piped up with swollen lips and a dopey smile. "Hermione is Hermione again. We should be celebrating. I'm marrying Astoria Greengrass. Oh yeah, having a kid as well. I'm all grown up. When the hell did that happen?"

Draco sneered, but in a good-natured sort of way. He tucked his wife into his side, vowing he'd never tire of saying the words 'my wife'.

"It's all a dream Weasley. You're really a Muggle in the midst of a wondrous dream. In reality, you're covered in spiders."

"That's not funny. That's not funny at all." Ron growled, but it didn't escape anyone's attention the way he casually brushed off his sweater, his eyes flitting about the room in nervousness.


	19. Righting Wrongs

**AN: I had planned to have this chapter up much sooner, but lightning struck my house, and we only managed to get internet reinstated today. We're nearly to the end!**

 **As always...enjoy**

* * *

Righting Wrongs

* * *

Astoria Greengrass examined her face in the mirror with a practiced eye. She had grown used to Hermione's face, but it was a relief to see her own eyes looking back at her. She hadn't minded living the other woman's life as much as she thought she would.

Of course, Astoria knew she was absolute shit when it came to pretending, therefore she hadn't bothered. She supposed that was how Molly had first sussed out the truth. She wasn't particularly fond of the Burrow, but the Weasley family as a whole had forced their way into her cold, Slytherin heart.

She dabbed the corner of her eye with a tattered handkerchief, and took a moment to appreciate her sparse belongings. Astoria slowly packed her bag, leaving behind most of the clothes Ron had selected as Hermione appropriate, with a sigh. She didn't want to leave, especially now, but considering the situation, she thought it would be best.

Astoria had heard the outrage, the shouts of disbelief, and even the tears from the safety of her bedroom. She didn't blame the Weasleys, she couldn't. She knew her family had reacted horribly in the face of some botched test results. Astoria knew they wouldn't have treated Hermione with the kindnesses the Weasleys had bestowed upon _her_.

She took a moment and patted the gentle mound of her abdomen beneath her red floral dress. Astoria wasn't ordinarily the sort of witch to be sentimental about much of anything, until now. She smoothed the fabric beneath her fingers lovingly, recalling the moment Molly had presented it to her.

She'd never received a handmade gift before, and hadn't known how much it would touch her heart. Astoria's mother was the sort of witch to toss her a bag of galleons, and send her on her way. It was habit to be aloof and apathetic to everyone and everything, until the Weasleys.

"Gods, I'm going to miss them." Astoria shook her head, and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.

The bedroom door creaked open when she twisted the knob, and Astoria hoped the Weasleys were still asleep. She wasn't known to be an early riser, therefore she knew they weren't expecting to see her out and about. She gripped the sturdy handle of her baggage and stepped through the threshold.

"There you are. I've been waiting ages to see the witch that was occupying my bedroom."

Astoria blinked quickly, swallowing her shock with an audible gulp. She vaguely recognised the auburn haired beauty, and it took her a moment to place her. After having spent the passed few months surrounded by Weasley men, it was strange seeing another young woman.

"Ginevra?" Astoria frowned, suddenly feeling very frumpy in her Molly-made dress in the presence of such a striking witch.

"Ginny, if you please, and you…are…Astoria. Interesting." Ginny Weasley tossed her red tresses over her shoulder, and slowly rounded the shorter, brunette witch. "I'm sure you've heard of me. My family has…very loose tongues. I don't mind. I've been gone awhile. I was certain my brother Ron would have managed to cajole Hermione into marrying him by now. Seems I was…wrong. How…ever did you meet? You must tell me all about it." Ginny yanked Astoria's petite hand, and dragged her toward the well-worn wooden table.

Astoria dropped her bag, and stumbled, confusion in her dark eyes. She just wanted to leave before Molly awoke, and she was forced to see the sadness in the woman's eyes. Astoria had grown to love the overbearing witch, and had never intended to hurt her.

"I-I…" Astoria stuttered with wide, deep brown eyes, suddenly terrified.

"Pish tosh, Ginny. There's no need to interrogate the girl. There was an accident and poor Astoria here landed in hospital. Just so happens Hermione was in hospital as well, and they stumbled across each other. Terribly romantic if you ask me, would you care for a fry up?" Molly hugged her daughter with one arm, and bestowed a warm smile upon Astoria.

Molly Weasley was fiercely protective of her family. She always had been. Ron was the happiest she'd ever seen him, and if his happiness was due to Astoria Greengrass, then so be it. It didn't matter to her in the least how her children were happy. Therefore, Astoria was family, and as such, Molly's protections knew no bounds, even if it included protecting her from the returned Prodigal Daughter.

"Ugh, well that's incredibly boring, isn't it? Catch me up then. When is the wedding? I missed Hermione's wedding. Gods, I would have loved to see that. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy tying the knot. I bet Ron was less than pleased. He's never really liked Malfoy. Well, that's putting it lightly. I suppose he'll be forced to learn, especially if he wishes to maintain his friendship with Hermione. I overheard a delicious rumour that Tonks is up the duff. I'm dying to know who fathered that…"

"Ginevra, that's quite enough." Molly snarled through her teeth, startling her youngest child.

Ron staggered into the kitchen, looking a bit frantic, yet still scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. He didn't pay the least bit of mind to his sister, instead scouring the room for Astoria. The tension he wasn't even aware was present melted away upon spying her near his mother.

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you. Mum, did you know she's planning on leaving? All her stuff is gone and oh, hey Ginny. Tori, you're not going anywhere, you hear me?" Ron barely glanced at the fry up Molly was setting at the table, which really was quite impressive considering his appetites.

Astoria's eyes were wide, but honestly, she was secretly pleased. She hadn't really wished to leave. Entertaining the idea of returning to her family was more than nauseating. She laughed when Ron spun her round until her stomach violently opposed the dizzying sensation.

"Ron, if she vomits and ruins my fry up, I'm going to hex your bollocks." Ginny pointed at her brother with her butter knife, secretly pleased to see him.

"I thought, I mean, I heard all the shouting and I thought…" Astoria jutted her chin forward, which only reminded everyone of Hermione, even as she stumbled over her words.

"You thought it was about you? Mercy child, not at all." Molly's lips clamped tightly together, and Astoria was astute to see the woman's eyes flit to Ginny.

"My sister has caused quite a ruckus. Never you mind and come have a bite to eat." Ron hovered near Astoria, presenting her with a cup of tepid tea and a bit of dry toast, and a nervous smile. "You can't eat nothing. It's not good for you."

"Mama? Who is dat?" Gideon Weasley pointed at Astoria with wide blue eyes, shyly stepping closer to the pretty witch, the moment he raced into the room.

Astoria studied the small child carefully. She took in his dark, messy hair, and big blue eyes, piecing together the upset of the Weasley family. It had nothing to do with her at all. It was Ginny's return, toting a beautiful little boy that had sparked the outrage.

"He's not Harry's." Astoria stated with obvious ease and turned to nibble her dry toast. Her stomach was ever appreciative and settled right quickly.

"She's smarter than you." Ginny winked at her older brother and lifted her son into her lap, offering him a bit of fried potato.

"Here we go again. Look, it's not my fault. It wasn't just me. We all thought…wait, how did you know, Jean er Tori?" Ron still struggled to utilise the proper name when speaking to his almost fiancée, but she didn't mind.

"He's shy. I can't remember a single moment when Harry Potter shy. His hair is also wavy, and it's only mussed because he's a small child. I'm sure when it's combed proper, the resemblance is nil." Astoria waved at Gideon, and he buried his face in his mother's chest, peeking at her every few minutes with a small giggle. "Did any of tell her?" Astoria gestured with her fork, picking up more than a few of Ron's terrible manners.

"Tell me what?" Ginny perked up, always interested in a bit of gossip.

The back door to the Burrow swung open violently and Harry Potter stumbled through with a wide smile on his lips. He patted the front pocket of his navy blazer and attempted to finger comb the bird's nest that was his hair. He looked to Ron eagerly, and his smiled faltered upon spying Ginny.

"Oh this will be interesting." Astoria took small sips of her tea, and closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle.

"Er uhm hi." Harry offered lamely, and Ron shrugged grandly, unsure as to why Harry was there. "Astoria, your parents wish to meet with you. Don't hex me. I was forced to inform them as far as the Switch was concerned, and they're understandably up in arms. I suggested neutral territory, but…"

"They've refused, of course. Where am I to meet them?" Astoria rolled her eyes, and snatched a thick slice of bacon from Ron's plate.

"Malfoy Manor." Harry cringed, expecting shouts and a few fair curses, but instead he was greeted with a thoughtful nod.

"You're coming with me. It would be best to leave Ron at home, he'll only exacerbate the matter. Bring Tonks as well. I'd like Jeanie and Draco to come along, they can at least distract if they're unable to aid in diffusing a volatile situation."

Ron sputtered angrily, spitting bits of fried egg onto his hands, but Astoria patted his arm with a small shake her head. Harry observed them have some sort of silent conversation, and while Ron wasn't especially pleased about the situation, he scowled with a curt nod and returned to his meal. Harry had never seen anyone handle Ron with such aplomb, not even his mother.

"Impressive." Ginny barely spared Astoria and Ron a glance, her eyes zeroing in on an obviously uncomfortable Harry. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

Molly quickly stepped in and gently lifted her grandson into her arms. She tweaked his chubby little cheek and offered him a hot cross bun to keep the boy quiet. She hummed under her breath and wandered away, hoping to shield the boy from any outbursts.

"No, actually. I don't." Harry's blazingly angry green eyes took in the small child without the barest hint of interest.

"What?" Ginny stood abruptly, quite prepared to march toward him, but she paused.

Nymphadora Tonks stood in the doorjamb, uncertainty painted on her flushed cheeks. She had been so excited to be invited to the Burrow. Harry had been exceedingly quiet, and it worried her a bit. She'd never done particularly well with silence, but the invitation changed everything…until she spied Ginny Weasley.

Tonks had often worried what would happen upon Ginny's return, yet she always thought she had more time. She waited, silently, anxious to hear Harry's response, disliking the way Ginny obviously wanted to rush into Harry's arms. Tonks felt decidedly territorial, but also incredibly unsure.

"You heard me, Ginevra. I mean, what did you expect? You fucked off years ago. Did you think I'd be wallowing in misery counting the moments until you decided I was enough for you? I see you've got a child as well. You obviously wasted no time getting over me. I've news for you. I'm over you. I'm happy. I'm really bloody happy. I've got a wonderful girl and we're going to have a baby. I'm going to marry her, and there's nothing you can do about it. In fact, you can go back where you came." Harry's breaths were hard and fast, his cheeks were a cheery red, but his eyes caused Ginny to stumble backward.

A small part of her knew her chances were slim, but Ginny hadn't expected a thorough tongue-lashing. She hadn't expected Harry to move on with his life. She supposed she had believed him to be her one great love, and perhaps he was, but she'd never know how her fairytale was supposed to end. Ginny had left, and she knew it had been selfish, but it was something she needed to do. It also seemed, she now had to discover how she fit into her own family, and how to move forward rather than focusing on what could have been and never was.

"Harry, you've a guest." Molly rocked her sleeping grandson, and gestured with her chin toward the door.

Harry spun around, the fire leaving his eyes the moment he saw Tonks. His slow grin widened, and it was difficult for him to keep from running to her. He felt the beads of sweat trickling down his back, and suddenly the box in his front pocket felt incredibly heavy.

"Did you mean it?" Nymphadora Tonks nodded curtly toward Ginny, in a silent sort of salutation, but her eyes, were Harry's.

"You weren't supposed to hear that. Where the hell is Ron?" Harry gestured wildly toward the table, noticing Ron's half empty plate.

"Here! I'm here! Oh shit, ow mum! Tonks is here." Ron batted away his mother's waving hand, shoving forward his only sister to suffer the blows. "I was just helping Tori with her uhm…with her uhm…"

"You were shagging." Harry accused quite clearly, despite Molly's lips gaping open in silent shock.

"Harry! My mum is right here…" Ron stage whispered across the room, hesitantly glancing over his shoulder, while fervently hoping Astoria's buttons were proper before she vacated the bedchamber.

"As if she doesn't know? Come on then, Astoria is pregnant. I'm fairly certain your mum knows how that works." Tonks winked at Molly, and the older witch merely shook her head, mentally chastising the younger generation.

"Ohh Harry's here! Have you done it then? You've proposed? I wonder if Lucius would allow us to have a double wedding in Narcissa's gardens, they are lovely this time of year." Astoria burst onto the scene with her blouse haphazardly buttoned and her lips swollen, leaving no doubts as to her and Ron's extracurricular activities.

"I hate all of you." Harry sighed, with a shake of his head and a frown.

* * *

Hermione Granger Malfoy silently fumed, barring the door against her insistent husband. She'd practically taken over the last remaining guest room in Blaise Zabini's modest home, and she hadn't the least bit of shame over it either. She tossed her wand onto the four-poster bed, and kicked her shoes off before wrapping her arms around her waist.

Draco, on the other hand, continued to pound on the oak, completely unaware his wife had cast a Silencing Charm. He had only suggested they return to his home in Lyme Regis, and hadn't understood her instant upset. It wasn't as if he had demanded they return to the Manor.

He had already disregarded the proper Pureblood protocol upon returning from holiday. Usually, a newly married couple would venture to the bride's family home and then the groom's, at which point they would take residence in the groom's ancestral home. He hadn't even considered proposing such a thing. Draco knew, without a doubt, Hermione would not only veto such a suggestion, but she'd likely hex him.

"Dammit, Granger!" Draco's fist thumped one last time upon the oak, before he hung his head with a sigh.

"She can't hear you. Haven't you realised by now? When Hermione is furious she casts a Silencing Charm. She'll calm in a bit. I'm sure that owl didn't help in the slightest." Fred shrugged in a good-natured sort of way and squeezed passed Draco in the narrow corridor.

While Fred Weasley was used to hearing the cacophony of friends and family beneath the roof of the Burrow, he knew Blaise was pressed to his limit. The poor sullen Slytherin was completely out of sorts, and Fred knew it was only a matter of time before there was an epic row.

"Wait, what owl?" Draco was remiss to leave his station, but he was insanely curious.

"She assumed you sent it, of course. Well, the original anyways. She's been summoned to the Manor, apparently her birth father is requesting a meeting."

"Bollocks, I didn't do it. I considered it for a moment, but I didn't wish her to be angry with me." Draco ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the collar of his dark grey button up shirt, nervously.

He didn't notice when Fred floated away. The wizard constantly seemed to be walking on a cloud these days, oftentimes stopping to admire his ring. Draco didn't mind, much of anything these days. He would have done anything to return to his little niche in Athens. Hermione's temperament was vastly improved while they were aware from family and friends.

As for Hermione, she rubbed her temples and practiced a bit of slow breathing. She knew it wasn't in her best interest to remain so angry, but she couldn't help it, not really. The last thing she wanted to do was return to Malfoy Manor. She hadn't the slightest desire to meet the man whom just so happened to abandon her birth mother.

It had taken her years to come to term with the fact she was adopted. Of course, it also explained so very much. It had always bothered her that she did not truly resemble her parents, and so her mother had taken it into her own hands to rectify what she could. A few simple visits to the salon, and Hermione Granger was sporting riotous curls that refused to be tamed. She felt better about herself then, yet she also became incredibly curious about her birth mother, which didn't bode well for her.

Hermione knew her parents loved her, but she always felt they were holding back. Once her magic manifested, it became even worse. They felt disconnected from the child they had raised, but there was nothing to be done about it. She missed them and yet was relieved they were gone, which was quite the emotional upheaval for a woman riddled with hormones.

Hermione removed her blouse, in favour of one of Draco's tatty Quidditch shirts. He had laughed the first time he saw her in it, but his eyes were warm. She slipped on a pair of lounge pants, and just before she climbed beneath the sheets, Hermione removed the Silencing Charm.

"I didn't do it. I understand you're furious, but I didn't do it. I wouldn't do something like that without discussing it with you first."

Hermione was more than capable of discerning the forlorn weariness in her husband's voice. She grappled with the twisted sheets for her wand, and unlocked the door. She knew he could hear the lock click, and waited for him to twist the handle.

"I'm too tired to argue, Malfoy." Hermione flipped back the covers, and patted the space beside her with a lazy yawn.

"Your mood swings are going to drive me to an early grave." Draco hurriedly disrobed, leaving his green boxers in place. "Come here." He demanded, quickly invading her personal space.

Hermione wasn't ordinarily the sort of witch, the sort of woman, that enjoyed a man wrapped around her. She reveled in a modicum of separation, but with Draco, it was different. She always felt better when he was near, when he was touching her, even if it was just a gentle stroke of her hand.

"I don't wish to see him." Hermione whispered against his chest, her anxiety melting away within the safety of his arms.

"I know love, but, it's a summons. We can't very well ignore it. I have a sneaking suspicion it was Astoria. Her parents wish to speak with her and I know they're going to be displeased as to her current situation. It is highly Slytherin of her to drag us into her mess." Draco kissed her cheek, and drew the cumbersome flower patterned bed coverings over them.

"I've requested to visit with a Healer. It's set for Friday." Her words were mumbled, as she was almost asleep, but Draco shook her lightly.

"Granger, that's tomorrow. We're supposed to meet with your father tomorrow."

"Hmm, I know. Spose we'll be late." Hermione snuggled into his chest, soon drifting away into a dreamless slumber.

Draco worried for her. She had been ridiculously exhausted, and prone to bouts of crying. Molly assured him it was normal, yet he couldn't help but to question her. Astoria didn't seem to suffer from anything other than a weak stomach, and an appetite that rivaled all of the Weasleys combined. He didn't enjoy entertaining the idea that something was amiss with his wife, with his child, but the thoughts lingered.

* * *

"I'm not taking you to the shops." Blaise Zabini crossed his arms, his dark eyes narrowed, with a sneer to his lips.

"I need a dress." Fred angrily slapped his thigh, wincing as it stung, yet he refused to yield. "You can't tell me I can be a pretty, pretty princess and then refuse to take me to the shops."

"Actually, it is not the groom's job to take the bride to the shops. Traditionally, the mother of the bride takes her and perhaps her sisters or friends for a day of shopping and drinking." Blaise leaned back, pleased with himself for remembering one of the many useless things Astoria had babbled into his ear. "Perhaps, Astoria would go with you. She's in dire need of a wedding dress. I'm sure Molly would be thrilled to be included, and from the whispers of gossip, your sister is back. Make it a family affair, Fred."

"Could we shop for a bigger house? I know you're not fond of so many guests, but if we had a bigger home, you wouldn't even notice. You'd be in your masculine office, surrounded with nothing other than books, a crackling fire, and a decanter of Ogden's. You can't tell me that doesn't appeal to you." Fred winced, hearing the thundering sounds of Elliot's bare feet stomping across the hardwoods.

"Hmmm, that is a lovely image. Alright, but, something with carpet." Blaise winked saucily and bent to kiss his love.

They had kept their amorous activities to a minimum with their houseguests, although it couldn't be said Hermione and Draco were nearly that considerate. Blaise stroked Fred's cheek, and Fred was quick to reciprocate, sinking his teeth into a succulent bottom lip. Blaise tugged on the side of Fred's hair, and was rewarded with a low moan.

"Mum? Dad? Are you lot snogging again?" Elliot skid into the room, sliding on the hardwood with the aid of a priceless Persian rug.

"House shopping, do that first." Blaise surreptitiously stroked the bulge in Fred's pants, and declared himself in dire need of a delightfully cold shower.

Elliot climbed into Fred's lap, his knee striking something hard in his mum's slacks. He shrugged, wondering why his mum's face was so red. He knew Fred had told him a bajillion times he was a bloke and blokes couldn't be mums, but Elliot didn't care. He really wanted a mum and considering Fred had been begging for a princess dress, it seemed fitting.

"I don'ts have to wear a dress when you and dad get married do I?" Elliot crinkled his nose, trying to picture himself walking around in a fluffy dress rather than slacks.

"If you like, I'm not against it. Your choices are as such, a pretty dress or dress robes. I'm sure we can have you fitted at Madam Malkin's." Fred attempted to bounce young Elliot on his knee, but quite honestly, his bollocks were still throbbing from a well-placed knee.

"Do dress robes itch as much as Molly's sweaters?" Elliot scratched his head with dirty fingernails, hoping his mum didn't notice.

"Sometimes they do, but there are charms for that. Don't think I didn't see the dirt crusted beneath your nails. You'll be heading straight for a bath if you expect to have any biscuits after dinner." Fred pointed with gusto, quite proud of himself for sounding like an authoritarian.

"Can I just wears like something pretty? Skirts fly up when youse spin. I bet they're nice when it's all hot." Elliot leaned closer to Fred, his tiny lips near Fred's ear. "Me slacks make my boy bits sticky."

"And that's exactly why you're going to bathe. I'll take you to the shops and we'll find you something lovely, promise." Fred struggled to maintain his composure, and barely managed, finally just coughing into his hand.

"When I get big as you, I'm gonna marry a girl. They don't have any parts to be sticky." Elliot nodded quite matter of fact and offered such a grand smile, Fred didn't have the heart to inform the boy otherwise.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sipped his perfectly aged firewhiskey with a curled lip and dreams of mutilation. He had an elf hang the Black Tapestry above the ornate pewter mantle of his private fireplace. He studied the gold lines, sneering as he happened across nearly every name.

"Cygnus had the correct idea. Blast their names from the family tree, disown them, and let them fade into nonexistence." Lucius huffed, calmly conversing with himself within the confines of his study. "Of course, blood is blood, family is family. Cygnus had other children, he could afford to lose one of them. Personally, I would have chosen Bellatrix, unpleasant psychopath that she was."

"He's talking to himself, again. Perhaps it would be best if we let him be."

"Nonsense." Narcissa Malfoy dragged her older sister into her husband's study with a firm grip on her elbow.

Lucius closed his eyes, and squeezed his tumbler. He could hear the crystal creak, and relented. He sucked his breath through his teeth, and tapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It would never do to lose his temper in mixed company, even if said company was a person he'd rather avoid.

"All of the arrangements have been made, isn't it wonderful, Lucypoo? Langston and Tremaine will be accompanying Serafina Greengrass, though I can't be certain her husband will be attending. I can't for the life of me remember his name…" Narcissa tapped her forefinger on her bottom lip thoughtfully, which was ruined by Andromeda's snicker. "Barton? No, that's not it. Jerome? No, that's not quite right either. It doesn't matter, the man never speaks anyway. He's completely useless. Do you suppose he speaks when he's shagging Serafina? Ugh, that's an awful thought, I may be sick."

"Perhaps the elf wine has gone to your head. Again." Andromeda Tonks completely disregarded Lucius Malfoy's scowl and sat beside him on the small sofa.

She propped her feet on the table, without removing her shoes, simply to irritate him. She fluffed her dark brown hair, and smiled at him congenially. She knew he would be forced to offer a salutation, as his Pureblood pride would not allow him otherwise. It would be most uncouth to disregard a familial guest in one's own home.

"Andromeda." Lucius growled, refusing to tear his eyes from the red and yellow flickers of his dwindling fire. "Pray tell, why…is my wife befuddled _this_ time?"

"Why is my wife befuddled this time. Gods, he's so stuffy. I'm pissed Lucypoo, utterly and completely pissed. It's quite lovely actually. Oh, was that desk always there?" Narcissa wandered the warm office space and bumped into the corner of his impressively massive desk.

"Lucius, you've really got to loosen up. My husband is dead. You can't still be angry with me after all these years. Nothing to say? Alright then. Tapestry Tea was the first occasion, and we had a smashing good time. Then of course, we had to celebrate my daughter's impending motherhood. Afterwards, we celebrated…what was it Cissa?"

"Astoria fucking off." Narcissa toyed with the bottle of elf wine, and if Lucius were a lesser man, he would have snatched it from her fingers.

"Oh yes, Astoria Greengrass and Ronald Weasley's engagement announcement. I can't imagine Serafina being particularly happy, but at least the boy is Pureblood."

"As if you care about such things!" Lucius flung his tumbler into the fire, his fingers itching to grasp his wand.

"Aww Lucypoo, don't be so…you about everything. Draco is happy. He's married the woman he's had his eye on since the bloody war. According to the Malfoy Tree, Hermione is expecting. It will be lovely to hear the sounds of children within the Manor again." Narcissa perched on the arm of the sofa, and smiled at her husband.

She also hiccupped and let loose a very loud, very unladylike belch. Lucius coughed as the stench of it was more than he could bear. He would have stood, allowing his wife and her sister to force him from his study, but it seemed Andromeda's derriere was firmly upon his cloak.

"Tonks is marrying Harry Potter. Oh, Cissa! Your gardens are absolutely gorgeous in the summer. How lovely would it be to have the wedding here?" Andromeda batted her eyes saucily, daring Lucius to deny his wife anything.

"I love it. We'll…simply banish Lucypoo to the dungeons. He thinks I don't know they're still there." Narcissa dissolved into giggles and if Lucius were a much, much lesser man, he would have hexed his wife.

"Will Harry call you Uncle? I would love to see that." Andromeda removed the elf wine from her sister's firm grasp and poured them each a near full glass.

"I hate all of you." Lucius sneered, and Narcissa tittered into her hand.

"Hmm, that's exactly what Harry said when Ron ruined his proposal. Imagine that, Lucius Malfoy and Harry Potter have something common. It's like Yule, but with hate, which is so much better."


	20. The Struggle of Fathers

**AN: We're nearly to the end. Promise.**

 **As always...enjoy *kisses***

* * *

The Struggle of Fathers

* * *

"Where is my daughter?!" Langston Fawley grasped Lucius Malfoy by the pristine lapel of his silver vest, and shook the man slightly.

"Really Fawley, must you resort to Muggle violence? Is that really necessary?" Lucius angrily removed Langston's hands from his person and sneered. "Honestly, if you had cared a wit for the girl you would have searched for her before now. I don't know why you've come to me, seeking absolution."

Sullivan Fawley was quick to pull his father off of the nonplussed Malfoy. He didn't quite understand why his dad was so completely out of sorts. He hadn't understood the mutterings before Langston demanded his son accompany him to Malfoy Manor.

It seemed the owl Langston had received was the cause of his angst. It wasn't difficult to suss out. Sullivan watched his father read the elegant slanted words. He watched his father's hands shake and his pallor resemble that of a corpse.

He wanted to know what it said, but his father had thrown the letter straight into the fire with a growl. Langston had paced his study, mumbling and toying with his dark hair. He had scrawled a missive and sent it off, his face pensive, and Sullivan was afraid to intervene.

"What do you know?" Langston scowled and easily pushed passed the slightly elder Malfoy to march toward the sitting room.

"I know many things. You really must be much more specific." Lucius enjoyed toying with the man more than he should have, but such was life.

"You unbelievable bastard. You are well aware of what I'm asking, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I received the invitation, as well as an exceedingly thick packet of information about my daughter. I wasn't aware I had a fucking daughter." Langston Fawley was near his breaking point, and Lucius took pity on the man.

"Surely you suspected when you met her at my son's wedding?" Lucius gestured toward the conservatory and Sullivan was quick to gaze out the windowpanes, searching for the peacocks.

"I knew…she was the spitting image of my Stella, but I couldn't be sure." Langston removed his robes with aplomb, and instantly rolled up the sleeves of his royal blue button up. "How did you…"

"Oh please, Fawley. Did you really think I wouldn't know the truth of the matter? Surely, you're aware how far my arm reaches when necessary."

"Ah yes, you were eavesdropping again." Langston slapped his hands on the cool glass of the conservatory, desperate for a drink.

"Eavesdropping sounds…so very quaint. I simply happened upon my wife having a discussion with Severus. I'm positive they'll be joining us momentarily. As for my son and his wife, it's anyone's guess. Those two do love to engage in…extracurricular activities." Lucius shook his head lightly with the proper disdain for his station, a smile brightening his harsh features when his prize peacock strutted along the water's edge.

"Dad…"

"Not now, Sullivan." Langston had closed his bright blue eyes with ragged breaths.

Sullivan Fawley had only intended to inform his father Draco and Hermione Malfoy were hiding in the garden. From his vantage point, he was fairly certain they were snogging heavily, and he hoped it wouldn't go any further than that. His wishes and hopes were for naught, and Sullivan averted his gaze the moment Draco dropped to his knees and covered his head with Hermione's skirts.

"Disgusting." Lucius clapped his pale hands a veritable parade of elves arrived laden with tea sandwiches, while he directed his guests toward the dining table.

"Lucius, why am I here?" Severus Snape stalked into Malfoy Manor with his black robes billowing behind him in a strong breeze that only seemed to affect him.

Sullivan shrunk away from his Professor, uncomfortable with the older man's presence. Langston sneered, but quickly crammed a cucumber sandwich between his lips to keep from being unkind. He'd never been particularly fond of the Slytherin, and vowed he was not about to begin.

"My wife suggested it. You'll have to take it up with her, Severus." Lucius Malfoy's grey eyes twinkled with mirth, and Severus knew there were surprises in store for him. The sort of surprises that made one wish they were dead.

"I suppose I should have an in-depth conversation with Narcissa. I do wonder how she would feel to discover her son has his head up his wife's skirts amidst her prize roses."

Lucius swallowed the revulsion lodged in his throat and refused to even glance in the direction of his wife's garden. He had seen more than enough of his son's…activities to last him two lifetimes.

"Mr. Potter is here. I don't understand anything anymore. I sent him to the garden. I thought I saw Draco taking his wife for a stroll…"

Narcissa Malfoy floated into the room with a serene smile that quickly wavered. Lucius, Langston, and even Sullivan were averting their eyes. She looked to Severus but rather than addressing her concerns he snorted and gestured toward the brunette witch bracing herself against an overgrown tree.

"What is she…oh my word." Narcissa's hand fluttered over her chest in obvious upset.

"Our son has no sense of propriety." Lucius sat at the ornately adorned table in such a way he was unable to gaze upon the gardens, which was probably for the best.

"Obviously." Severus Snape sniffed in affected disdain, although secretly, he was highly amused. Of course, he would never admit to such things.

* * *

"I don't wish to speak with him. Please, Malfoy, don't ask me anymore. I never ask for anything and, stop laughing at me!" Hermione sent a paisley throw pillow flying toward her husband's chuckling face, wishing it were something more substantial.

"Mrs. Malfoy, my darling, my love, you are completely delusional. You've demanded every bloody strawberry in existence. You spent a fair amount of time refusing to leave Zabini's home. When I finally managed to drag you…literally kicking and screaming to Lyme Regis, you locked yourself in my bedchamber for three days. I haven't received an ounce of matrimonial affection since your little Muggle stick of urine claimed you were with child. I love you, but that's enough now. Go to our fucking room and put on some fucking clothes because if I must drag you to the Manor naked, by your hair, I will do so." Draco glowered at his wife, secretly grateful he had hidden her wand before delivering his overly dramatic speech.

Hermione's bottom lip trembled, but Draco refused to yield. His first instinct, of course, was to immediately embrace her and agree to whatever she demanded. However, Draco was well aware of the fact Hermione had been spending entirely too much time with Nymphadora Tonks. He did not wish to see himself manipulated the way Potter was, and therefore, stood his ground.

"I don't even understand why we're going. It isn't as if any of it has anything to do with us. This is all Tori's fault. Remind me again why I shouldn't jinx her?" Hermione struggled into a pair of slacks angrily.

Draco reclined upon their four-poster after following her to the bedchamber. He knew she detested when he hovered, but it was her own fault. If she hadn't been so obstinate, he wouldn't be forced to shout at her.

"Those slacks aren't going to fit, love. You do realise we're going to Malfoy Manor, where we will be meeting with my incredibly stuffy parents. Don't forget, the delightful Greengrass sisters, their respective husbands, and knowing my mother as I do, Professor Snape as well. Wear that pretty little paisley dress, would you? For me?" He ignored the way she sneered at him, almost proud of her for displaying decidedly Malfoy qualities.

"Harry is coming with us. He's set to meet us at the Manor. I still can't believe you had the audacity to order the Healer to our home." Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder and threw her slacks toward the bed. She was still quite miffed with him, for what she considered overstepping boundaries.

 _The Healer stepped through the Floo, absolutely wary and completely exhausted. Hermione hadn't been expecting guests and nearly shrieked from the shock._

 _Healer Matthew Greene was the last person she wished to see that morning, or any other morning. His eyes had lit up with excitement when he realised she was to be his patient, but it didn't last particularly long. Mediwitch Kensi immediately followed him through the Floo, which set Hermione at ease._

 _She knew Draco would lose his bloody mind if he were to discover Healer Greene, unattended, with his wife. Hermione still disliked the way his eyes followed her every movement. He wasn't a bad looking fellow, he simply had a tendency to be inappropriate._

" _What is he doing here?" Draco was in the process of thrusting his arms through one of his many button down shirts as he turned the corner._

" _I-I don't know. They haven't said. Did you…" Hermione attempted to soothe Draco's ire, but he quickly interrupted._

" _Get him out of my house." Draco drew his wand, and didn't waste a moment when it came to aiming the tip at Healer Greene's throat._

" _Mr. Malfoy, if I may." Mediwitch Kensi was just as kind as Hermione remembered, and offered the older woman a small smile. "You demanded a Healer. Unfortunately, the options were limited. I am perfectly capable of attending to your needs, however, it is St. Mungo's policy to have a Healer in attendance as well. If there were a choice in the matter, Mr. Malfoy, believe me, I would have chosen otherwise."_

" _He doesn't touch her. He doesn't look at her." Draco gestured toward the narrow corridor and the Mediwitch nodded curtly._

" _You fetched a Healer? Honestly, I told you I didn't care a wit if we were late and now…" Hermione huffed, allowing her sentence trail off as she tossed her hands into the air._

 _Of course, that was also the moment her temperamental stomach revolted and caused her tea and toast to make another reappearance. Draco would have been lying if he had said it hadn't pleased him to see the spoils splash upon the bottom of the Healer's robe. Secretly, he hoped a fair bit splashed into his shoes._

" _Look Granger, I know better than anyone else you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It's not a matter of having faith in you or any of that Gryffindor nonsense. It's simply, this is Lucius Malfoy. He allowed fucking Voldemort to reside in his home and yes, he's absolutely dedicated to his family but that doesn't change one simple fact. He knows magic you've never dreamed and if anything were to happen to you because of him, because of me…just trust me, please." Draco took a shaky breath, thankful he wasn't forced to shout across the crowded sitting room._

 _Hermione had sidled into his side, knowing it would ease his volatile temperament. She ignored the disgruntled sighs of Healer Greene and looped an arm around his waist. She knew he had more to say, but he needed to settle his nerves first. Hermione realised her presence calmed him more than anything, and it made her feel beloved._

" _Your mother said he didn't take issue…" Hermione interjected quietly, recalling the owl they had received from Narcissa._

" _I know what she said. I just…it would make me feel better if we arrived with proof in hand. He can't touch you then. He can't hurt you. I wouldn't be able…"_

" _Draco, let's go with Kensi then."_

 _While Hermione was still slightly perturbed by his presumptions, she also understood. It was a simply matter to allow the Mediwitch to perform a battery of simple spells. It didn't truly matter that they were being done within the confines of their home, rather than St. Mungo's._

 _Draco held his wife tightly to his side and led her not to their bedchamber, but the small guest room off the main floor bath. Hermione's lips twitched in amusement when he warded the door against Healer Greene, and even Mediwitch Kensi chanced a small smile._

" _Am I supposed to guess as to the reason I'm here?" Kensi patted her graying curls with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes._

" _He doesn't trust the Muggle tests." Hermione offered with a roll of her deep brown eyes, and a smile on her lips._

" _It's a simple matter." Mediwitch Kensi gestured toward the narrow bed, casually eying her temporary patient. "You've got a healthy glow about you, and from the looks of it, you won't be sporting those slacks again anytime soon."_

" _Ugh, I know, it's horrid. I've read loads of books on the subject, and not one of them mentions this ridiculous weight gain until much, much later." Hermione unbuttoned her slacks and reclined upon the bed with her arms beneath her head._

 _The Mediwitch murmured under her breath and waved her Medi-Wand. She snorted and huffed a fair bit, but said absolutely nothing. Her actions were driving Draco mad, but he held his tongue._

" _Well, that explains that." Kensi sat on the small white rocking chair beside the bed and took a deep breath. "Mr. Malfoy, you may wish to sit down."_

 _Draco finally abandoned his post at the door in order to sit beside his wife. Hermione sat up slowly, and struggled to button her slacks, determined to close them. She could have transfigured them, but she was always a bit on the stubborn side._

" _What's wrong?" Draco cleared his throat, to dislodge the tremble, and Hermione was quick to take his hand._

" _I'm sure everything is fine." Hermione's matter of fact statement, didn't make him feel much better. He knew she was a brilliant witch, but he still needed the Mediwitch to alleviate his fears._

" _He's really quite adorable when he's fretting. It's a wonder how you lot ever manage to leave the bedchamber." Kensi chuckled lightly, and mopped her forehead with a delicate lace handkerchief._

"Granger, we're going to be late." Draco offered Hermione her shawl, but suddenly being late didn't seem like such a terrible idea. "That dress is fucking delectable. I think I'd like to take a bit of a detour through my mother's gardens."

"We could just stay home and you could shag me proper, in a bed. I don't much like the idea of having thorns embedded in my arse." Hermione tucked her wand into the lacy green strap on her thigh, teasing her husband with a tantalizing view of creamy white thighs.

Draco snatched her to his chest and kissed her. Her dark eyelashes fluttered shut, and it didn't take long to sag against him. He teased the corner of her lips, applying the slightest bit of pressure. It wasn't enough for her, but no matter how much she pushed forward, he withdrew.

Hermione felt the pull in her stomach, and the familiar squeeze, and knew she had been tricked. She despised Side Along Apparition, but Draco had distracted her. A few droplets of tears fell from the corners of her eyes upon landing in the grass, but Draco was quick to kiss her brow.

"I'm sorry. Hermione, look at me." Draco tapped beneath her chin with the side of his forefinger, and quickly glanced over her head toward the Manor. "I know you hate it, but even the Mediwitch said travel by Floo isn't the best recourse."

Hermione nodded every so slowly, as she was still having a bout of dizziness. Frankly, she believed Floo travel to be the lesser of two evils, but it seemed an overprotective husband had deftly removed her choices in the matter. She hadn't even begun to formulate an argument as far as returning to her job was concerned.

She had received an owl from the Minister for Magic, practically begging for her return. Over the course of the past few months, Hermione had learned she was put on administrative leave due to the circumstances of her accident. She knew her caseload was probably astronomical as her assistant wasn't known for her ability to multitask.

"You can't expect me to remain housebound, Draco." Hermione shelved the idea of an imminent return to work and decided to focus on the issue at hand.

"We could…move into the Manor. Hear me out before you shout at me." Draco dragged her behind an imposingly large ancient oak tree, his grey eyes darting toward the Manor once more. "The Manor has everything we'd need. The entire East Wing of second floor would be ours. There's even an office and I know all about your owl from Shacklebolt. You could do all the bloody research you like." He pushed her against the tree, and easily towered over her.

"Draco, you…want me to live…in the Manor? I thought you liked Lyme Regis…" Hermione knew this conversation was coming, she simply believed she'd have more time.

"I only bloody lived in Lyme Regis because I knew you lived nearby. There! Are you happy now? I loved you even then, and I didn't want to admit it, because I'm stubborn. You're ridiculously stubborn as well and, Merlin our children are going to drive us to an early grave."

Hermione stretched onto her toes and hugged him then. Draco clung to her, wondering if he'd ever get his fill of her. There were moments he was absolutely certain he was going to wake from the most wonderful dream. Some mornings he would gasp, and reach for her, calming only when he felt the rise of her chest beneath his palm.

"You're a bit mental. I always suspected, but I…"

Draco interrupted her impending monologue with a searing kiss. Whatever words his wife had prepared to lash out at him were lost in a heady sigh. He tasted remnants of that blasted tooth lotion she insisted was for the betterment of her teeth, as he nibbled her lips.

The green paisley dress swirling against her legs was driving him mad with desire. Draco no longer cared his parents were awaiting their arrival. He had never really cared Harry Potter was due to visit as well. He wanted his wife, and he wanted her now.

Hermione blamed everything on her hormones. The flush upon her skin, and instant desire to tear Draco's clothes off had nothing to do with his fingernails scraping across the soft skin of her thighs. It was her hormones.

She felt him bunching her dress in his hands, and part of her wanted to protest. Draco's hot breath against her bare skin caused her protests to die before they ever came to fruition. Hermione sagged against the impressive oak, with parted plump lips, and tiny breathy gasps.

It was a simple matter for Draco to slide her skimpy green knickers to her knees. He considered slipping them off entirely and stuffing them into his pocket, but he didn't think his wife would approve of such things. His fingernails scraped long the backs of her legs until gooseflesh was apparently obvious, which only spurred him on further.

He ducked his head beneath her dress, and forced her knees apart. He snickered against her knee when she gasped, his fingers searching toward her arousal. He enjoyed the way she crumpled. Her knees sagged and her hands tightly gripped his shoulders. He knew it wouldn't take long to bring Hermione to her end.

Draco wished to tease her, but he knew they hadn't the time. The Apparition Point wasn't particularly far from his mother's gardens, and he knew she would be ever so watchful for their arrival. Hermione crooned into the crisp fall air, the moment his tongue swiped across her weeping sex. He sunk his teeth into the fleshy bits of her thigh, just before he thrust forward.

Hermione's resolve weakened, if it ever existed in the first place, and soon she was panting. Her teeth drew blood in her desperation to keep her moans to a minimum. She could taste the hot copper on her lips, but it was a secondary concern to the high she was chasing.

It was strangely titillating to be so exposed. Vaguely, she wondered if Lucius was sneering at them from the confines of the Manor, but suddenly, it no longer mattered. Draco was voracious in his attentions, drawing her tiny bundle of nerves between his teeth, and applying the slightest bit of pressure. Hermione whimpered in ecstasy and relief as her body shuddered. She yanked on Draco's platinum strands, through the soft fabric of her dress, but he refused to relent.

"Oh what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Hermione was incapable of stopping the second wave as it rolled through her. She shuddered, unable to remain on her feet any longer. Draco ceased his ministrations, and quickly sat upon the brown crumpled leaves. He unbuckled his slacks and lowered his zipper, while still hidden beneath her skirts. He hastily yanked his wife into his lap, and she gasped.

"Draco…we can't…its…Harry is…I mean…ohh Merlin." Hermione threw her head back, exposing the long lines of her neck, as her dark hair brushed her waist.

"He just…sat you on his cock…didn't he? Of course he did. This is some sick and twisted form of retribution isn't it? And he's ignoring me. As if I can't see him thrusting in my mate like a ruddy teenager. Your father will hear about this!" Harry Potter grimaced, and backed away slowly.

Harry was absolutely certain he had arrived on time. He was quite proud of himself for walking through Narcissa's gardens without encountering thorns, however Hermione and Draco had ruined all that. He was still a bit sick to his stomach, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Mr. Potter…to what do I owe the displeasure." Lucius Malfoy sneered quite nastily the moment Harry stepped into the Manor.

"Don't even start with me Uncle Lucius. Your son is shagging his wife in Narcissa's gardens. He has absolutely no sense of propriety." Harry flounced into one of the many blue flowered upholstered chairs surrounding the oblong dining table. He immediately lowered his head, ignoring the other guests.

Sullivan Fawley, however, was having the time of his life. He hadn't the slightest idea what was going on, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. He was ignored by the adults present, which allowed him to eavesdrop and attempt to piece together the little mystery.

He casually helped himself to the finger sandwiches and various crisp vegetables while gazing into the garden. Sullivan wasn't able to discern Draco or Hermione, which was probably for the best, however he swallowed hard and ducked behind the draperies when he spied Serafina Greengrass stomping along the garden path.

"Dad, Aunt Serafina…" Sullivan whispered, but it was drowned out by the sound of an earsplitting shriek.

"Seems she's discovered my son." Lucius offered Langston a tumbler of firewhiskey, consciously ignoring Harry Potter.

"Lucius!" Narcissa hurried to the French doors, intent upon greeting their guests, with a nervous air.

"Uncle Lucius has been summoned." Harry mumbled, still quite traumatised by witnessing his best mate in the throws of orgasmic bliss.

Sullivan sat beside the famous wizard, and Harry offered a small, half smile. He regretted leaving Grimmauld Place that morning. In fact, Harry regretted many things that all happened to surround Draco Malfoy.

"I don't know why I'm here." Sullivan Fawley offered with a bright smile.

Harry studied the boy with a practiced eye. There were mannerisms that reminded him of Hermione, which was strange to admit. Sullivan stroked his chin rather than tapping his finger on his lip, but even so. The far away gaze in the boy's light eyes mirrored Hermione's thought processes when they were children.

"That makes two of us. I saw your sister shagging in the garden. I need a drink." Harry groaned, quickly shaking his head to rid himself of the mental images burned into his skull.

"M-my sister?" Sullivan shook his dark hair, unsettling the waves and causing them to flop over his eyes. "I don't…I don't have a sister." Sullivan looked to his father, but Langston's blue eyes were locked on his daughter.

Sullivan stood, his head whipping between his childhood idol and his father in utter and complete disbelief. He saw it then, as they stood across the room from each other. The resemblance wasn't blatant, but it was somewhat obvious if you knew what you were looking for.

Draco pressed on the small of his wife's back, but Hermione's feet refused to move. She still harboured animosity toward the man who had abandoned her birth mother, and it wasn't something she was looking to correct. Her back stiffened, and Sullivan observed Draco whisper into her ear, which seemed to calm her somewhat.

"No one's told him? Tossers, the lot of you. Sullivan Fawley, meet your sister, Hermione Malfoy, formerly Granger. Uncle Lu, you really need to share your firewhiskey, and I think I hear the Floo. Perhaps Astoria's arrived, which will just be the perfect end to this utter and complete shit show." Harry gestured wildly, and it would have been amusing under other circumstances.

Lucius snorted, yet held the bottle of Ogden's Finest aloft, just the same. He had learned it was best to remain silent, especially when an incredible row was moments from taking place. Lucius decided he might as well be cordial to the man, despite his dislike for him, as the last thing he wished to do was cause more upset for his wife.

"Where is Astoria?" Serafina burst through the French doors with a heavy sneer, as her eyes scoured the room for her wayward daughter.

Narcissa blinked hard when she spied the derision in Serafina Greengrass. They had never had a particularly cordial relationship, but she hadn't expected pinched scarlet lips and glowers. Byron nodded congenially, and Narcissa was grateful she had remembered the wizard's name.

Sullivan Fawley launched himself at Hermione, and she nearly toppled over, but for the sure hands of her husband, it would have been an entirely different outcome. The poor boy kept muttering something into her hair, but she couldn't make sense of it. She was entirely too busy keeping a wary eye on Langston.

"Father, I'm going to take the Fawleys and my wife to the sunroom. I'd rather she not be exposed to the vileness. I'm sure you understand." Draco's grey eyes flitted toward the nasty grimace of Serafina, and his father offered an imperceptible nod.

"If your son hadn't toyed with spells, he wouldn't be taking the Mudblood anywhere."

Serafina Greengrass drew her wand with pinched features, and malicious intent. She hoped to fire off a quick hex, yet she underestimated not only the Malfoys, but the Auror Harry Potter as well. She stumbled backward, with an audible gasp, and even her husband refused to come to her aid.

Harry Potter's wand was thrust beneath Serafina's chin before she completed a single blink. She had underestimated the Auror, but it was the others that surprised her the most. Her nephew looked downright feral, and she noted the way he was shielding the woman she despised.

"Mum, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Astoria Greengrass scurried into the sunlit filled room, absolutely aghast at her mother's behaviour.

Harry twisted his wand beneath Serafina's chin, finding perverse pleasure in her wince of pain. He happily noted Ron in attendance, despite Astoria's previous declaration otherwise, and the former Auror, current Keeper, had enough sense to draw his wand as well. He wished to frown upon spying Tonks hidden behind them, but he was honestly pleased to see her, despite the circumstances.

"She's ruined everything." Serafina hissed, quite unpleasantly, staring daggers toward Hermione Malfoy.

"I knew." Astoria snarled at her mother as she rounded a deceptively calm Narcissa. "I knew before the wedding. I knew when I was shagging Ron Weasley in his childhood bedroom with the bloody ghoul moaning overhead. I suspected long before I knew the truth of the matter. I had the privilege of seeing my parents discard their daughter, due to a simple test mix-up. I've witnessed more love and kindness with the Weasleys, than you ever showed me. She ruined nothing. You did." Astoria ripped Serafina's wand from wrinkled fingers and hurled it across the room.

Narcissa flinched when it struck her favourite Ming vase, but it remained upright, to her great relief. She noticed Byron remained utterly silent, and almost detached from the saga of his family. She was shocked to discover him near the sideboard, , casually pouring himself a liberal quantity of port.

"Byron! Say something!" Serafina yelped, just before she shoved Harry Potter from her personal space.

"Ach, what is there to say? She never wanted to marry the Malfoy boy in the first place. Arranged Marriages are utter shite. Can't say I've been happy, can't say I care if you've been happy. For Salazar's sake, let the girl be happy." Byron Greengrass shook his head with obvious disgust, and returned his attention to his port.

"I can't believe you're taking her side. You always take her side! You never listen to me! You've never loved me at all, have you? Don't even bother to try to deny it! I know you're shagging that Hogsmeade hussy! I've had quite enough. I demand a divorce." Serafina Greengrass discarded her Pureblood dignity, and despite the present company, shrieked quite like a banshee while she stamped her foot in rage.

"Thank fuck for small favours. You'll move out quickly then? I've got quite a hot date with the Hogsmeade Hussy. At least she isn't averse to sitting on my cock you frigid witch." Byron chortled happily, and raised his goblet in toast to his wife.

"Well, I never."

"Aye, I know. Rosmerta does though, and she does it well. Now that's a woman." Byron bared his teeth, and Astoria suddenly felt quite ill.

Serafina's shriek was enough to make the deaf weep. Lucius was quite entertained, and snickered into his firewhiskey, completely forgetting Harry Potter was standing near his elbow. They watched the enraged witch stomp toward the French doors and held their breaths. They sincerely hoped the woman would leave without another word, but alas, it was not to be.

Instead, she paused near the pillar housing Narcissa Malfoy's prize Ming vase. She snatched it from the stand and with a great bellow, smashed it to the ground. Serafina harrumphed loudly and retrieved her wand. There was a collective sigh of relief upon her departure, even as the reverberation of slamming doors echoed in their ears.

"You owe me a vase, Byron." Narcissa snapped her fingers and a litany of elves appeared, intent upon clearing up the shards of glass.

"Ach, just take hers. Bought her the same one years ago. She always admired it and it was easier to purchase her one, than to listen to her speak. Perhaps she'll move to America. That would be a delightful gift." Byron smiled happily and sighed, wishing away his wife.

Sullivan Fawley exchanged a pointed look with his dad. He loved his father dearly, but there was much the man needed to explain. He knew his parent's marriage was less than ideal, and he frowned, wondering if it was as volatile as Aunt Serafina and Uncle Byron's disastrous marriage.

"Do you think she'd take Tremaine with her?" Langston piped up, curious as to the answer, when Byron laughed heartily.

"Oh, now that _would_ be lovely."


	21. Confrontations

**AN: I can't promise the edit is up to snuff, frankly, I was tired of reading it.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Confrontations

* * *

"I am wearing a dress!" Fred Weasley pointed his long fingers terribly close to his mother's face as he shouted.

"You will not!" Molly hadn't a particular reason for her utter distaste of the idea, other than her son was a man. "It's bad enough that young, impressionable boy is calling you mum. A wedding dress, I can't imagine…"

"Nanny Molly, why does it matter?" Elliot asked her with quiet reverence while he tugged on the hem of her apron.

He'd sat idly by while Molly and Fred shouted at each other, but he didn't understand why there was such a fuss. Wizards wore robes all the time, and if they weren't like dresses, he didn't know what was. There were times, Elliot dreamed of wearing nothing beneath his new robes, just to feel the air against his skin as he walked.

"Elliot, when you're older you'll understand. Now, I've been fairly accepting of this relationship with Blaise. I was wary at first, but he's quite a lovely man. I was supportive when you moved in together, and I congratulated you on your impending nuptials, however I draw the line at wedding dresses." Molly flapped her palm in front of her face, wishing for a breath of fresh air.

"I'll do it." Ginny Weasley wandered into the kitchen with Gideon on her hip, tired of all the yelling. "You should see all the witches and wizards in America. They don't care a wit about blood. They also dress however they like. I saw a wizard once with a shock of metal in his nose and shocking blue hair. He also happened to be wearing a plaid skirt and a ruffled blouse, but no one gave him a second glance. I'll take you to the shops, Fred. I'm sure we'll find you something befitting your wedding." Ginny looked up at her brother with a critical eye while bouncing her squirming son on her hip, "Though, the dresses would look a damn sight better if you had breasts."

Fred curled his forefinger away from his mother's face, and tilted his head to the side. Molly shook her head with a roll of her eyes, and set the plates to wash. She muttered to herself while Fred contemplated Ginny's words, and had nothing more to add to the discussion.

"Blaise promised to work me up a spell, but after his last spell snafu, I can't say I put much faith in his abilities." Fred shook his head, his bright red hair shaking out behind him, just before he slumped into a nearby wooden chair.

"How did…all this come about? I mean, when I left, I was fairly certain you were a bloke, and now…it seems the lines have become a bit blurred. I'm not one to judge or anything, just insanely curious." Ginny rocked to and fro while her son nestled into her hair, his thumb firmly wedged between his teeth as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Why does everyone wish to label everything? Does it matter? I can be a bloke that just so happens to want to wear a bloody dress. It _is_ my wedding. I should be able to wear whatever I choose." Fred propped his chin in his palm and glared at his only sister.

Ginny nodded slowly and meandered into the sitting room. Gideon was getting a bit heavy to carry around, but he was in unfamiliar surroundings, and still unsure of all the red haired folks intent upon pinching his cheeks. Ginny settled into a shabby armchair near the hearth, hoping Fred would join her.

"You're sure then? About Blaise I mean, you haven't been dating particularly long or anything. I suppose when you know…you know." She sighed in a seemingly forlorn sort of manner, and Fred took a bit of pity on her.

"I wasn't right away. Blaise had a bit of a reputation with the ladies. I had ventured down that road with Angelina, but it never felt right. I mean, she's perfectly nice and everything, but it was all wrong. I wasn't even angry when she left me. In fact, I was more perturbed over the fact she decided my twin brother was the perfect choice. It was hard with Angelina, sort of how it was with you and Harry. You lot really had to struggle to maintain a relationship, and I was tired of the struggle. With Blaise, while completely unexpected, it's easy. We fight often, and he's a tendency to be ridiculously sour, as well as sarcastic with traces of narcissism, but I never have to guess where I stand with him." Fred wandered into the sitting room and brushed across Gideon's dark hair with a soft hand, and sat beside Ginny.

Ginny had often contemplated her former relationship with Harry, and Fred was exactly correct in his deductions. It had been exceedingly hard to maintain a relationship with Harry. She had wanted it desperately for so long, when she finally had it, it slipped through her fingers. Neither of them had been willing to fight for it, which made it that much easier to walk away.

"Do you think Malfoy and Hermione ever wonder if it's all worth it? I mean, they have plenty of obstacles, and it just seems utterly exhausting." Ginny crossed her legs and shifted her now sleeping son in her arms quite easily.

"Malfoy's been in love with her forever. He's a stubborn sort. He's also ridiculously possessive, so no. I think he'd move mountains for her, because he can't imagine his life without her. I think when you've a love like that, you never let go. Perhaps, if you can end something, and not have it break your heart into a million pieces, it wasn't love in the first place."

"When did you get so smart?" Ginny whispered sadly.

"I've always been smart, but I hide my pain with humour and inappropriate jokes. Now, enough of this depressing shit. Tell Aunt Fred all about Gideon's daddy. I'm absolutely positive there's a story there." Fred batted his eyes, causing Ginny to snort with laughter, and somehow, Molly knew it would all be fine in the end.

* * *

Severus Snape walked around the Malfoy dining table in such a way, he seemed to glide on thin air. His black robes rustled behind him, as if they were lifted in a breeze, though the air was still. His shoulder length black hair swung to and fro, and his arms were crossed behind his back as he glowered.

"I don't understand…" Draco began, with his arm casually crossed across his wife's chair.

"Silence!" Severus demanded, pausing at the empty chair designated for his use. "I have listened to inane babble for entirely too long. Someone needed to take control of this situation, and it was obvious none of you are prepared." He sneered, but he was not unkind in his declarations.

Hermione Malfoy glanced down the long table. She realised they were all slightly confused. She herself refused to even look upon her birth father, though Severus had sat the man across from her. Instead, she studied the curious Sullivan, realising he wasn't much younger than she.

It amused her to see Harry seated near Lucius, and while the two did not speak, they shared a bottle of firewhiskey without issue. She wondered if they would forge some sort of friendship when all was said and done. She attempted to dismiss the thought, yet a small burst of laughter escaped her swollen lips.

"You are amused, Mrs. Malfoy?" Severus glowered at her with curious eyes, pausing as though he expected her to refute his words.

"I'm sorry, Professor. Please…continue." Hermione folded her hands over her abdomen, conscious of life beneath her fingertips.

"Perhaps Lucius and Mr. Potter should refrain from indulging in entirely too much firewhiskey, lest they're unable to contribute to the issues at hand." Snape's pointed gaze was ignored by the wizards at the other end of the table, which surprised no one.

"Perhaps Snape should be less stuffy and drink himself stupid." Harry muttered not nearly as quiet as he thought, and Lucius Malfoy actually guffawed.

"I concur." Lucius raised his glass in silent toast, quickly finishing the addictive amber liquid. "Dear gods, I've just agreed with Harry Potter, I require a Healer…immediately."

Severus Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, and counted to ten in Latin while he inhaled. He decided he was entirely too old to deal with such shenanigans, and retirement sounded like a lovely idea. He proposed to discuss such details with Headmistress McGonagall posthaste.

"Langston Fawley, I believe you owe your daughter an explanation. I'm not one to usually meddle in the private affairs of others, however Draco is my godson and if I receive another owl complaining of his wife's upsets, I will be forced to Avada myself."

"Is that possible?" Harry whispered, bumping Lucius Malfoy's elbow with his own, and nearly fell from his seat.

"Why don't you try it and let me know?" Lucius winked at the man, chortling happily to himself.

"I'll have you know…" Harry attempted to puff out his chest, but he wobbled on his chair, ruining the effect, "I've been Avada'd by…by…what the fuck is his name?"

"Voldemort." Hermione supplied with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, him. Twice no less, and I'm still here." Harry nodded, quite pleased with himself, and Snape resumed counting.

"You should definitely try it, Potter." Draco winced upon receiving a particularly hard elbow in his ribs, "What? He should, then we could be done listening to them blather."

"He's got a point. Should I lend him my wand?" Byron Greengrass hadn't the slightest idea why he was forced to sit, and frankly wished to return to the decanter of port that had been removed from his hands.

Narcissa Malfoy pressed her lips together and rose from her chair. She dared Severus to remark upon her gesture, yet he remained silent. She left the room without a word, causing the others to wonder as to her intent.

She returned a few moments later, followed by three small house elves. They bowed grandly and presented Lucius and Harry with piping hot cups of tea. Narcissa stood between the men, angrily tapping her foot. They hastily picked up the china teacups and sipped, burning their tongues. Less than a handful of minutes later, their foreheads were upon the dark wood, and the snores were growing to a crescendo.

"I had quite enough of that nonsense. I've slipped them a Sleeping Draught for all our sakes." Her blue eyes sought out her son, and her eyebrows arched with displeasure as she recalled his activities in her garden. "Draco, we are going to discuss your impulse control later. I shall not discuss such private matters in public. However, I have it on good authority a Healer visited your home. Is there cause for concern?"

Draco groaned, internally plotting the murder of whomsoever informed his mother anything as far as his life was concerned. He loved his mother dearly, but her meddling was enough to drive him to madness. He considered rescinding his fervent demand to his wife, considering living in the Manor, but it was too late now.

"Healer?" Langston leaned forward, paying rapt attention to the exchange.

He desperately wished Hermione would look at him, just once. There was much he wanted to say, but where to begin was the issue. He hadn't had much experience discussing his former relationship with Stella Bagley. He imagined Hermione didn't know much about the woman, considering she had been adopted, but even so.

Langston missed Stella. He missed her every moment of every day of his existence. He had never believed himself capable of loving anyone as wholly as he had loved her. It had nearly torn him in two to leave her behind. At the time, he had believed it to be safer for her.

The Wizarding World was still a bit tumultuous, but once Voldemort had disappeared, Langston had searched for her. Her parents refused to speak with him, eventually moving far from his grasp. He had bitterly married Tremaine, and gave his life over to duty.

"It's fine, it's nothing to be concerned about." Hermione's dark eyes flashed with anger, directed toward Langston, and while he was thankful to gaze upon her fully, he recoiled from her wrath.

"Granger, you're never going to get answers if you mentally murder the man who holds them." Draco whispered into her ear, squeezing her shoulder lightly and covered her hands with his own.

"Finally, a voice of reason." Severus resumed pacing, however, he paused giving Draco a particularly pointed look. "Draco, alleviate your mother's distress. It is uncustomary for you to be unkind."

Draco seemed to be sufficiently abashed, yet he and Hermione had immediately begun whispering angrily at each other. She shook her head vehemently, and he gestured, slapping his palm onto the table. Hermione bit her lip, a flash of tears in her eyes, and Draco was quick to cup her cheek tenderly. She finally nodded slowly, but it was obviously under protest.

"I was being cautious, and perhaps a bit overprotective." Draco began, and no one missed the way he leaned toward his wife. "I sent for a Healer to simply verify our suspicions. She's fine, everything is fine."

"Draco, We're all aware of the fact Hermione is pregnant. Did you forget the Tapestry? I swear, this younger generation has forgotten their ancestral history, such a pity. I require details." Narcissa dared her son to deny her, and even Hermione shivered beneath the cold stare.

"I've a slight issue, which is quite easily regulated with small, regular meals." Hermione jumped as an elf presented her with a plate filled with delicacies. "I'm expanding at an alarming rate, which is due to…which is due to…uhm, well what I mean to say…"

"Hermione will be the first Malfoy in over a century to produce more than one child…at one time." Draco smirked in a cocky sort of manner, quite pleased with himself.

"Malfoy, I'm not a cat." Hermione huffed with indignation, laced with a twinge of embarrassment as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Well, you do have a delightful pu…"

"ENOUGH!"

* * *

Ronald Weasley occupied his time by kicking the gnomes in his mother's garden. It wasn't what he wanted to be doing, but he was trying to respect his fiancée's wishes. He couldn't even manage a smile as the little dirty gnomes flew in the air with an angry yelp.

"I should be with her." He mumbled to himself as dirty fingers raked through his red locks.

"Go be with her then." Nymphadora Tonks dropped an arm over his shoulder with an easy shrug.

"She doesn't want me there." Ron's shoulders slumped with dejection, and Tonks smirked.

"Yeah, but she'll appreciate the gesture. Women are complicated, Ron. Most of the time, we don't even know what we want, except perhaps Hermione. That witch has a solid head on her shoulders, and I wouldn't recommend crossing her, but Astoria is a grand gestures sort of girl. I'll go with you if that'll make you feel a bit better. Hermione wanted me to go, Harry wished me to stay behind. Personally, I think it would be loads of fun. Afterwards, we'll take Fred dress shopping. I can't bloody wait to see that." Tonks tugged on Ron's dirty hand, and practically dragged him to the Apparition Point.

"If she's angry, I'm blaming you." Ron grumbled, but Tonks realised his steps had increased.

It tickled her pink to learn exactly how much Ronald Weasley loved Astoria Greengrass. Nymphadora believed the Switch was the best thing that could have possibly happened to them. While she knew Ron had loved Hermione, and vice versa, there was always something lacking in their relationship. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was until she observed Hermione and Draco.

One can have love, but without passion, it would be a mediocre existence. Nymphadora had loved Remus, still loved Remus, absolutely passionately, but he had to be convinced and cajoled into returning her affections. She knew she had been blinded by the matters of the heart, but she couldn't regret them.

She adored her son, and had always hoped Remus would settle into life with her, especially after learning Teddy had inherited her metamorphmagus abilities, and not a shred of the wolf. There were moments when she wished she could have saved him, but in the end, Tonks knew Remus had died a good death. He had perished fighting for survival, and what was nobler than that?

"I'll take the blame, Weasley." Tonks bumped Ron's shoulder, quite excited to venture to Malfoy Manor.

She raised her wand, but Ron grasped her wrist. He seemed to be struggling for words, and she gave him a moment to collect himself. Tonks lowered her wand and rested an open palm on her abdomen, still amazed by the growing life.

"Do you love Harry?" Ron frowned and shook his head. "I mean, I know you care about him and all. I'm just curious because…well he's my best mate. Ginny hurt him quite a lot really, and he doesn't like to talk about it much. She's my sister and I love her, but Harry is like my brother. I know his proposal was right shit, but if you don't love him…don't say yes, alright? He deserves someone that really loves him. You do too. You loved Remus a lot, but honestly? I always felt he was holding back a bit. Maybe it was because of the whole werewolf thing, but I can't say for sure. I suppose we'll never know." Ron offered a small half smile and released her wrist.

Tonks merely nodded and raised her wand. She didn't wish to discuss such things any longer. She gasped as the customary compression sent them hurtling through the confines of time and space.

"Never gets easier." Tonks spat and quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Are you sure this is right? I can't even see the bloody Manor from here." Ron groaned, as he was apt to do, and wobbled on his large feet.

"Do you always complain this much? We've got nearly two kilometers to walk before reaching the Manor. I'm sure you'll survive."

* * *

Hermione Malfoy's stomach growled quite loudly in the awkward silence after Draco's innuendo. She pretended she couldn't hear it, though she could feel Draco's eyes boring into her. She huffed, and dutifully sipped a goblet of water, while offering Sullivan a small smile.

"Did you know?" Sullivan ignored his father's large hand squeezing his forearm, and wrenched away from him. "I mean, at the wedding, did you know I'm your brother?"

"That's quite the loaded question." Hermione whispered. "I've known since I was a small child I was adopted. My mum gave me a packet of papers and I studied them for quite some time. When I entered Hogwarts, I set them aside. I was already different, being raised by Muggles. I really didn't wish to entertain the idea of having a magical parent that didn't want me. Also, it was Astoria that conversed with you at the wedding." Hermione met the blue eyes across from her with kindness, realising Sullivan was just as hurt and confused as she.

"Didn't want you?" Langston Fawley was completely aghast at the very idea, and leaned forward, desperate for Hermione's attentions. "Didn't want you? I didn't even know of you! If I had been informed…I could have done something." Langston wiped his face with his hand, and even Draco had to admit the wizard looked a bit haggard.

"Look Fawley, you upset my wife and I'll hex you. I won't even regret it." Draco snarled, ignoring the earsplitting sound of wood scraping across marble as he dragged Hermione's chair closer.

"With what wand, Draco?" Snape sneered, as was his way, thankful he had absconded with all of their wands before he was in the midst of another battle he couldn't care less about.

"I don't need a fucking wand." Draco snapped his fingers and the lights dimmed, as the Manor creaked around them. "This is my home, my father's home, and his father before him. This Manor was erected centuries ago, entwined with nothing less than Blood Magic. If you think for one moment I would allow anyone to interfere in any matter concerning my wife, you are sorely mistaken."

Severus Snape was vaguely impressed by his godson's ferally protective nature. It was a decidedly pleasant about face to the apathy he had witnessed over the years. He did not miss the sneering, arrogant, yet terrified boy he once knew. He respected the man before him, despite Draco's appalling manners.

"Draco, Jeanie doesn't look well." Astoria piped up, her fingers lazily strumming the table in boredom. "She sounds hungry. Merlin knows I'm bloody starving." She rolled her dark eyes heavenward, irritated with adults acting like children.

Draco and Severus turned toward her quickly, both forgetting she was even there. It wasn't like the young Slytherin to remain quiet. Perhaps her pregnancy was causing a lull in her ordinarily boisterous manner, for which there was much to be grateful.

"Lookit that Tonks. We arrived just in time. I'm starved!" Ronald Weasley ambled into the Manor as if he belonged there, waving cheerily to the occupants of the dining room.

"Is…Harry sleeping?" Tonks walked over and ruffled the familiar dark hair, which only earned her a hearty groan from the slumbering wizard.

"Oh for heavens sake. You'd think I had cursed them from the way you're acting. It's just a bit of Sleeping Draught. They were intoxicated and they were irritating me. You know I haven't the patience for such shenanigans." Narcissa tossed her hands in the air and strode directly into the kitchen.

It wasn't often, if ever, that Hermione, Astoria and Ron shared the same thoughts, but this was a special occasion. Hermione's stomach growled loudly, and Astoria's answered with its own sort of grumble. Ron's hand continuously rubbed his striped sweater, as though it had been ages since his last meal.

When the elves marched into the room carrying trays over their heads, Hermione was nearly salivating. She forgot all her manners and snatched the bowl of strawberries from the poor elf's hands, with barely a smile. She also eyed the bowl filled with various wedges of melon, and Ron knew better than to even glance in their direction.

"It's all…healthy." Ron grimaced, sitting heavily beside Astoria.

Tonks sat beside Hermione, deftly stealing strawberries and melon while Hermione's eyes were closed. She heaped her plate with yoghurt and honey, moaning in such a fashion Sullivan blushed as she licked the yoghurt from the tip of the strawberry.

"Hmm, Fred wants to go dress shopping. It could be fun, when all this is said and done. What on earth is going on here anyway?" Tonks knocked into Hermione's shoulder with a conspiratorial sort of grin.

"Langston Fawley was involved with my birth mother. He's here because he's seeking absolution or some such nonsense. Sullivan here is my brother." Hermione shoved a succulent piece of honeydew between her lips and savored the taste. "Serafina was here. You missed all the fun. Byron indulged in entirely too much port, hence why his chin is resting on his chest. Lucius and Harry were being completely obnoxious, and Snape is treating us all as if we're eleven."

Lucius Malfoy's forehead was pounding, but he knew better than to raise his head. He had a sneaking suspicion he was slumbering upon his antique dining table. He also had a sneaking suspicion his wife was to blame.

Harry Potter stirred slightly, jerking awake. He rubbed the back of his neck and whipped his head backward. The room spun in a delightful, yet colourful manner, which made him a big nauseous. He gripped the corner of the table, but it didn't aid him in the least. He fell off his chair, landing with a loud thump, which rattled his teeth.

"Absolution? Is that what you truly believe?" Langston's light eyes held such sadness, it was difficult for Hermione to glance away. "I swear to you, I didn't know. I only knew something had befallen Stella due to a letter I received. I didn't understand it. It only said, 'I hope you're happy now'. I-I travelled to Katrina's home, and I nearly beat my fists bloody, but she refused to answer. I sent letters, and they were always returned unopened, until the last. The last stated she had moved and left no further address. What did you want me to do? What was I supposed to do?" Langston ignored the droplets stinging the corner of his eye as he implored his only daughter for an answer.

"Granger…" Draco could see the flush spread across her chest, and knew Hermione's temper was rising.

"No. You don't get to Granger me, not now." Hermione pushed away from the table, and began to pace. "You left her. I can't pretend to know all the sordid details, but you left her. My mum never enjoyed discussing her sisters, and how could see? They were all dead! She was the only one left, and she died too. She told me you knew, my mum did. She told me you knew and she was thankful you never came for me, because I was all she had. She loved me, and you don't get to take that away from me." Hermione's knees were shaking, and she quickly covered her quivering lips to muffle the sound of her sob.

"Katrina was a complicated woman." Langston began carefully, as it was easy to see the protective glint in Draco Malfoy's eyes. "I would never suggest she didn't love you. She wouldn't have raised you if she hadn't. She wouldn't have stepped foot into Diagon Alley to aid you in buying your books, if she hadn't loved you. Katrina Bagley absolutely detested magic. She did those things out of love for you, and for Stella."

"Why's Harry on the floor?" Ron whispered loudly to Astoria while he picked at the medley of fruit and revolting fresh vegetables.

"Because he's stupid, obviously. Shut up, I want to hear this." Astoria shoved a stalk of celery into Ron's mouth and rested her hand on her chin, paying rapt attention to the scene before her.

"What do you mean she detested magic? She…she said she was proud of me when I received my letter from Hogwarts. She…she paid rapt attention when Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall visited our home. I don't believe you." The stubborn set to Hermione's jaw was achingly familiar to Langston Fawley and he closed his eyes.

"She knew me, Hermione. Stella was…gods, she was beautiful. She was outspoken and reckless, utterly reckless really. She was what Katrina considered a wild child, and I didn't blame her, not really. She disapproved of our late night rendezvous, and made it glaringly obvious." Langston's clenched fist slapped the tabletop and Lucius slowly raised his head, with bleary eyes, and a heartfelt glare.

"She couldn't have known. The Wizarding World is to remain secret from Muggles. They teach such lessons first year." Hermione allowed Draco to interlace their fingers and drag her back to her chair, as her head began to ache.

"It was an accident. I never meant…I never meant to reveal my hand, to either of them. Stella had fallen in with some unsavory fellows I suppose you could say. It was the anniversary of Charlotte's death. Katrina and Stella were in a bad way. It must have been difficult for them. I knew Stella adored her sister Charlotte. They were coming from the cemetery, and it was quite late. Stella was hours late to meet me, but I didn't mind." Langston swallowed hard, and Sullivan patted his father's hand nervously.

"I was near the brownstone, and a group of Muggle men leapt from their vehicle. Katrina was screaming, Stella was crying, and from the looks of it, they intended to cart her off. She was kicking and biting at them, but they were relentless. I couldn't stand by and do nothing. I uhm, well, I hexed them. The Ministry was forced to modify their memories, and I was severely reprimanded, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered, because Stella was safe." Langston yanked a plain white handkerchief from his blazer pocket and wiped his red eyes.

"You…really loved her." Hermione whispered, struck by the man's intensity. "My mum refused to speak of you. She claimed you were a no account wizard that decided to remain with his lot rather than sully himself with a Muggle. I believed her because I discovered your family tree in the Hogwarts library. Don't roll your eyes, Ronald, I will ensure Molly provides you nothing other than raw fruit and vegetables for a year!"

Ron's jaw clicked shut loudly, and Harry managed a snicker. He had clamored back into his chair, cursing the pounding behind his eyelids. He swiped a carrot from Ron's plate and met no resistance, knowing Ron wasn't a particular fan of anything that wasn't thoroughly cooked.

"What…happened to her?" Langston was pleading by this point, and Hermione took pity upon the man.

"I have the post clipping, but my mum refused to tell me more than what was written. Stella was on her way home from the market. I was nearly a year old, and we lived with my mum and dad. A group of young men approached her and beat her senseless. They stole her bloody groceries and the few pounds in her purse. Apparently, they decided it wasn't enough and they stabbed her quite a few times. She…she never had a chance. She was discovered near morning by a constable, who described the scene as…gruesome. Apparently, the men were never apprehended as there was no evidence left behind." Hermione sniffled, silently cursing the influx of hormones wrecking havoc with her life.

Draco was quick to embrace Hermione, holding her tight. He never knew the truth of Stella Bagley's demise was so violent. Hermione had simply told him her birth mother had died during the course of a robbery, which hadn't been a falsehood, but there had been so much more.

"How deliciously depressing. Is the poor little blight crying? It would make me feel much better if she were. I went to quite a lot of trouble to erase my competition from the face of the earth, but it seems I missed something incredibly vital. If I had known you existed, rest assured, you would be dead as well."

Tremaine Fawley smiled wickedly as she waggled her fingers in Hermione Malfoy's direction. She wasn't sorry for anything she had done. She was only doing what any good Pureblood witch would do. She had secured her future, and who could blame her really.

"Mum?" Sullivan moved toward his mother, but Langston grasped his son by the shoulders, rooting him in place. "Y-you killed Hermione's mum?" He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and he frowned with disbelief.

"Of course not darling. I would never sully my hands with such filth. I did what any good Pureblood would do. I hired people for such things. I've come to finish the job, if you're interested in aiding your mother. I'm sure your grandfather would approve."

"Mum, what's wrong with you? You can't ago about killing people!" Sullivan wrestled with his father, finally resorting to stomping on Langston's foot.

"You're such a Hufflepuff. Alas, that changes nothing." Tremaine Fawley drew her wand faster than anyone expected.

"Mum!" Sullivan attempted to round the table and intercept the witch, but it was too late.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	22. The Preparations of Surprise

The Preparations of Surprise

* * *

Hermione Malfoy was surprisingly comfortable in the four-poster bed. She had accepted the invitation to remain in Malfoy Manor under protest, but had finally acquiesced due to Draco's incessant hovering. She didn't blame him, but it grew tiresome.

"I'm terrified of being a father." Draco hadn't the slightest idea his wife was awake, and spent the early morning hours speaking to his unborn children. "I haven't the slightest idea what I'm supposed to do, and it's not as though I can ask my own parents. They hired people to do such things for them. I can't imagine your mother allowing such a thing. I'll love you though. I can promise you that much. I know you're the size of a bogey, but I love you anyway, and just between us, I'll love you even if you're Hufflepuff. Sullivan, that's your uncle by the way, he's Hufflepuff and, he's alright."

Hermione shifted under the weight of his head, and Draco immediately sat up. He looked a bit sheepish, and thoroughly knackered. His platinum locks were disheveled, which made him quite alluring, at least to Hermione.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Some. I couldn't remain that way though. I kept seeing Tremaine pointing her fucking wand at you. I swear my heart stopped." Draco drew a shaky breath and flopped beside his wife.

He was still a bit shocked she had agreed to remain in the Manor. It was comforting to him, to a certain extent, to be sleeping beside his wife in his childhood bedroom. It was tradition to raise one's family with a sense of togetherness, and he desperately wanted that. It had become a burning need, especially since Tremaine's confession. He didn't relish the idea of living so far from nearly everyone, no matter how much Hermione adored Lyme Regis.

"Sully nearly got himself killed. If Severus hadn't…" Hermione's voice broke, and Draco being Draco palmed her breast to distract her.

"He did. You're fine. They're fine." Draco inclined his head toward the slight mound beneath the sheet. "Your brother is fine and he's just down the corridor if you wish to see him."

"I don't know how to be a sister." Hermione ignored the insistent hand within her nightgown and yawned.

"Yes you do. You've been jaunting about with Potter and the Weasel for years. It's not much different than that." Draco shrugged, wondering if she'd be up for a quick shag before the Manor jumped to life with all its guests.

"As lovely as that feels, I'm entirely too tired, Draco." Hermione lazily blinked her eyes, a soft smile on her lips.

"Granger…"

"You can't call me that anymore." Hermione tossed her arm over her eyes, intent upon returning to slumber, but for the insistent fingers tweaking her nipple.

"Hermione, I've got to spend the day with Potter, the Weasel, Zabini, and my father. I need something to get me through the day." Draco crooned softly, while he plucked open the silk laces of her nightie.

"You're welcome to come with us." Hermione mumbled, her breath catching as warm lips flecked across her exposed skin.

"Or I could _come_ with you, feed you an insanely large breakfast, and send you off to dress shop with Fred Weasley. Do you know how difficult it is to say that with a straight face?" Draco shoved the bunched bedding to the end of the bed and sidled between his wife's thighs.

His lascivious intonation was not lost on Hermione. She really was quite tired, but it was nearly impossible to resist him, especially when he was painting delectable circles with his tongue. Her body of course, completely betrayed her, which Hermione discovered she really didn't mind.

"Draco…" She attempted to sound much angrier than she felt, but he was in the process or wrenching her nightie over her hips.

"I'll be quick." Draco quickly shucked his pyjama pants, with an urgency Hermione understood quite well.

"Draco, look at me." Hermione grasped his face, and it was then she saw the underlying fear in his eyes. "You're not going to lose me."

"Kensi said the risk…" Draco shook his head and lowered his eyes, but Hermione held his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"We'll stay in the bloody Manor. It's better to remain closer to family than by ourselves in Lyme Regis. I'd like to sell my cottage, and yours. Perhaps later, when the children are older, we can purchase a home of our own." Hermione kissed the tip of his nose, as she felt the tension in Draco's body ebb.

Draco bent to kiss her and then he latched onto her throat. He mumbled something in her hair, and she strained to hear the words. It was easy to allow herself to be lost in him.

Hermione's nightgown was tossed to the wayside, and the collective sighs were inexplicably soothing. The events of the day prior were stress inducing to say the least, and Hermione needed to feel him, just as much as he needed her.

"I already sold them….bought a plot of land…set an appointment with a MagiTech." Draco pecked her lips, nearly bracing himself for a rush of anger that didn't come.

"Perfect. You've got to hurry if you're still aiming for a shag. Fred will be here momentarily, and it's up to you to convince Harry and Ron to wear dresses." Hermione stroked the warm, hard cock nestled between her thighs with a sly grin.

"I don't think I can do it now. I've got images of Weaslebee in a pink poufy dress."

"Oh love, I'm sure you'll manage." Hermione crooned, and Draco was pleased to discover she was absolutely correct.

* * *

Harry Potter groaned as he gagged over the side of the porcelain toilet. He wasn't certain if it was an over indulgence of fire whiskey or the Sleeping Draught that had caused his massive headache, but he didn't care. He simply wished for it to fuck off.

"Serves you right." Tonks snickered and shoved a Headache Tonic into his clammy hands.

"When did you get here? Everything's so hazy. I swear I saw you come through the Floo with Ron and Astoria, but I also vaguely recall Ron shouting about arriving in time for vittles. I'm so confused. I barely remember the altercation with Tremaine." Harry choked down the Tonic, hastily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he attempted to stand on shaky limbs.

"You really don't listen when the Minister speaks, do you?" Tonks ruffled Harry's hair, smirking as he groaned from the movement. "Projection Charm. I couldn't let Astoria confront her parents alone, and I was forced to convince Ronald to accompany me."

Harry blinked his bleary eyes, rubbing them, absolutely certain his blurry eyes were playing tricks on him. While he wasn't wearing his spectacles, he could see enough to ascertain he was not at home. In fact, based on the opulent wall coverings, Harry was fairly certain he was in a bedchamber in Malfoy Manor, yet that wasn't the most surprising part of his bizarre morning.

"Y-you're…starkers." Harry squinted, leaning forward slightly while his right hand danced along the side table just outside the loo. He finally grasped his spectacles and shoved them on the bridge of his nose, albeit a bit haphazardly.

"Yes well, Aunt Cissy ordered me to remain in the guest room across the corridor. She kept mumbling about propriety and the younger generations proclivity for fornication. She'd already been upset enough by Tremaine's uncouth behaviours, I believe she called it, so I waited until this morning. I had intended to simply slip into bed and seduce you, but apparently you found the loo much more enticing." Nymphadora pouted prettily, and batted her long eyelashes, but Harry's concentration was centered on her high firm breasts.

"I'm not listening, get on the bed." Harry licked his lips, and just managed to perform a Mouth Cleansing Charm before tossing his wand onto the armchair nearest the large window.

"You're a cheeky little bastard aren't you? I've been waiting for you for hours, we're completely out of time now. You'll simply have to feed your appetites by gazing upon me as I dress."

Tonks quickly finger combed the shock of bubblegum pink hair upon her head, just before she slid lazy cream knickers up her well toned thighs. She licked her lips, knowing she was driving him mad and winked. She bent over to retrieve her blouse, and suddenly, Harry's hands were on her hips.

"Dirty, little tease." Harry growled.

Tonks gasped as Harry's palm slapped her lower back. He pressed firmly, and she braced herself on her elbows. She felt him step between her legs, and in a matter of seconds, her knickers were torn and pooling at her left ankle.

"Those were my best knickers, Harry." Tonks attempted to sound angry, but it fell short when deft fingers were teasingly stroking wet folds.

"I don't care." Harry hissed as he eased himself into the warmth he craved.

He grasped her shoulders, hauling her against him, with a light grunt. He considered using her breasts for leverage, but he didn't imagine she'd appreciate that in her current condition. It didn't take long for Nymphadora's guttural sighs to segue into high-pitched croons.

"Why? Why must my home become a breeding ground? Have I not been punished enough?" Lucius Malfoy groaned, as he angrily covered his ears and wished he hadn't left his wand in his bedchamber.

"You're so dramatic. They're young, they're in love. Do you not remember when we were…"

"Cissa! We did not engage in relations when we had guests!"

Lucius unceremoniously pushed passed his wife in favour of literally running down the marble steps. He paused at the bottom and carefully removed his palms from his ears. With a sigh of relief evident in the slump of his shoulders, Lucius stalked toward the conservatory, counting the moments until his guests vacated his home.

"Mum, there are strange noises upstairs. Sounds like when you and dad make the sex." Elliot swung his legs as he picked at his elf provided breakfast, shrugging at the strangled sound emanating from the tall blond man.

"For the love of Circe, will I never have peace again?"

"Morning Lucius. Cissa, thanks for inviting us." Blaise Zabini sipped his piping hot mug of coffee, with his arm slung behind Fred's chair.

Narcissa nodded with a tight smile, knowing her husband was mere seconds from losing his mind. She knew he wasn't particularly fond of the Weasleys, but it couldn't be helped. The sooner Lucius Malfoy learned the Weasleys were an integral part of Hermione's life, and therefore theirs, the better.

"Mrs. Malfoy…" Fred daintily sipped his tea and swallowed nervously as he address the Matriarch.

"Narcissa, please." Narcissa sat to the left of her husband and gently stroked his stiff arm, which did not ease his displeasure.

"Narcissa then, uhm I was wondering…" Fred paused, carefully considering his words before turning to Blaise, pleading with his light brown eyes.

"Cissa, Fred wishes to upend all tradition and have bridesmaids. However, he doesn't wish them to be witches, he wishes to stick the likes of Harry Potter and a few of his brothers in ball gowns. He was wondering, if perhaps you wouldn't be against using your…formidable influence in order to coerce them." Blaise stroked Fred's back until his fiancé relaxed beneath his gentle hand.

"Cissa, we are not hosting a fairy wedding." Lucius Malfoy's sour expression turned to instant horror as an indescribable itch made its way up his sphincter.

"You were saying, my love?" Narcissa tapped the tip of her wand against his teacup with a sardonic smile.

Blaise gripped Fred's hand tightly beneath the table, before he had a decidedly Weasley moment, and said something completely inappropriate. While they hadn't been exposed to such prejudices, Fred Weasley was no stranger to hatred. He had been raised a Weasley, and while they were Pureblood, they were poor and discarded the notions of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It had caused Fred strife throughout his entire life, but there was peace in this moment, as he observed Narcissa Malfoy defend him with a ferocity that could only be rivaled by his mother.

"When will the delightful affair take place?" Lucius squeaked through clenched teeth, and Blaise swore there was a fine sheen of sweat across the man's brow.

"Hermione suggested the sooner the better as she doesn't wish to be the size of a hippogriff, but it's going to take a bit of time to find the perfect gown." Fred sighed into his poached eggs and shrugged off Blaise's arm.

"Mum needs boobs." Elliot slurped his hot chocolate, and nearly fell from his perch with his energetic waving toward Ron and Astoria.

Blaise coughed into his fist, and Elliot quickly ducked his head. He knew he wasn't supposed to discuss such things outside the confines of his home, but in his mind, the facts hadn't changed. Elliot the orphan, soon to be Zabini, was absolutely determined to have a proper family. He was ferociously adamant in naming Fred his mum, and his childlike deductions demanded his mum have breasts.

"Isn't it enough that Fred shall be wearing a wedding gown?" Narcissa leaned forward, curious as to the child's answer.

She could see his mind hard at work, and while she wished to reprimand him for swinging his legs, she held her tongue. Narcissa inspected the ice blue linen beneath her hand, deciding the colour would look absolutely splendid on her daughter-in-law, while she waited for Elliot's reply.

"Well, Mum and Dad are blokes right?" Elliot climbed onto his knees, thrilled at being the center of attention. "They look like blokes. They act like blokes, and I guess they do other things like blokes too, but I'm not sure cuz Dad says I'm not sposed to asked how they make the sex anymore. Sometimes Mum is like a girl, I mean, he makes me eat veggies and I don't like them. He makes me take baths and be clean and stuff. He's nicer at me than my dead mummy, and I'm never ever hungries. Alls he wants is to be a pretty princess when he marries dad, and I ain't never seen a princess that didn't have boobs is all." Elliot lifted his hands skyward as he shrugged, and even Lucius had difficulty maintaining his stoic features.

"Blaise, give your fiancé breasts." Narcissa winked at Elliot before turning to a confused Ron Weasley. "Ah Mr. Weasley, as payment for disallowing my husband to hex you to oblivion, you shall bend to your brothers every whim where his nuptials to Mr. Zabini are concerned. I'm sure we understand each other. Do be sure to inform Mr. Potter as well. I do hate repeating myself. Astoria, please inform Hermione and Nymphadora we will be vacating the Manor at half past the hour in order to procure the dresses for the Weasley-Zabini wedding." Narcissa rose slowly, pleased as Lucius quickly stood beside her.

While she couldn't claim she was thrilled with the influx of Weasleys, it was to be expected. She couldn't ask Hermione to deny her familial bond with the Weasleys, therefore it was time for the Malfoys to set aside their feud for the betterment of their family. She was positive Lucius was going to be a constant irritant, but that was nothing new.

"Cissa, my darling, I adore you, let me make that perfectly clear. However, if you believe for one moment that I am going to adorn myself in ruffles and petticoats, rest assured, I'd rather climb into Voldemort's grave and cuddle his bones." Lucius blinked slowly, his grey eyes narrowing at the red haired troublemaker seated at his table.

"That can be arranged." Narcissa kissed her husband's cheek amidst barely concealed chuckles and vacated the sun parlor with Lucius close behind her.

"I like her." Elliot chortled happily, just before swiping a slice of bacon from his Uncle Ron's plate.

* * *

Langston Fawley slept fitfully at best. He spent most of the night tossing, turning, and groaning. He cursed the moonlight wafting through the parted draperies. He cursed the subtle creak of the four-poster bed. He cursed the day he had finally bent to his father's will.

The moment the barest hint of sunrise licked the horizon with its splashes of burnt orange and yellow, Langston leapt from the bed. He showered quickly, reveling in the feel of the scalding water. He dressed quickly, and had intended on waking his daughter, but decided against it, just as there was a light rap against the bedchamber door.

"Dad? It's Sullivan, are you up? I can't sleep."

"Sully? It's much too early…" Langston twisted the knob and his only son stumbled in, with his dark hair askew and his eyes shaking off the remnants of nightmares.

"I know but, I can't get it out of my head. I mean…mum almost…she almost…" Sullivan Fawley fell into his father's arms, squelching the desire to dissolve into tears.

"I know, but she didn't." Langston smoothed his son's hair, and held him close until the boy no longer trembled.

"How did you…get there in time?" Sullivan withdrew from his father's arms, slightly embarrassed by his emotional display, yet he still required answers.

Langston tugged on the sleeves of his puce button down, and gestured toward the small sitting area near the picture windows. He waited for his son to choose an armchair, before sitting across from him. He rang the small bell on the bistro table and an elf arrived laden with tea service and croissants.

"It was a multitude of things really. Thanks to Severus, nearly all of us were bloody wandless, but it didn't stop you from running toward danger." Langston swiped his palm across his lips and gripped his chin for a moment before taking a slow breath and pouring them both a spot of tea.

"I couldn't just sit there and watch. I've looked up to Hermione Granger since I heard the first whispers of her adventures before I ever began Hogwarts. Now, I find out she's my bloody sister and you expected me to just stand there and watch my mother murder her?" Sullivan angrily ripped a croissant in half, spilling crumbs into the creases of his blue striped robe.

"A lesser man would have frozen, and I'm glad you aren't a lesser man, but for the love of Merlin, never do that to me again. I merely shifted Tremaine's attention. She faltered, seeing you running toward whom she considered her enemy. Her hatred for me was nearly blinding, but it was just enough for her wand to falter as she cast the Killing Curse. Severus was quick to Stun her, and in the event the curse came within a hair's breadth of Hermione, Draco Malfoy would have taken the brunt of it, considering he had…"

"Bloody well knocked her to the floor and covered her with his own body. I thought Harry Potter was going to lose his fucking mind. Sorry." Sullivan blushed lightly at his use of words before his father, but his temper got the best of him. "Everyone loves her, did you realise that? The entire room was ready to jump in front of death for her, I can't even imagine being loved that much."

Langston winced, a shiver working its way through his thin frame, as Sullivan's words ripped through him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words were spoken, and the silence was thick between them. He quickly gulped his tepid tea and met the eyes that mirrored his own.

"I wasn't running for her, Sully. I was running for you."

* * *

Ronald Weasley was having the worst day of his entire life, which said quite a lot considering his childhood endeavors. It wasn't bad enough Astoria had rejected his advances, suddenly deciding it was in their best interest to wait until after their wedding before falling into bed with him. It wasn't bad enough young Elliot had eaten the last of the bacon off his plate at breakfast, now he was subjected to bloody dress shopping.

"This is ridiculous." Ron grumbled ever so quietly, as the last thing he wished was to be on the receiving end of Narcissa Malfoy's wand.

"Chin up, Ron. You'll look lovely." Ginny Weasley snickered happily as she sifted through the voluminous dresses with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Chin up? Seriously? Ginny, our brother has breasts. He's marrying a bloke and convinced the Dark Witch to force us into dresses." Ron quickly ducked behind a particularly hideous feathered concoction the moment he realised his words were nearly a bellow.

"The Dark Witch? Honestly Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, just before smacking Ron in the back of the head.

Astoria was quick to grasp Narcissa's wand hand before Ron was forced to experience an excruciating itch he could never reach. She smiled prettily and gestured toward an impressive display of fascinators. The gleam in the older witch's blue eyes was unmistakable, and Astoria knew Ron would be sporting a creation of his own making.

"Please don't place him in red. It would clash horribly with his hair." Astoria pleaded with the Matriarch, literally praying Ron's insensitivity hadn't set off the woman's temper.

"Not to worry my dear, I'm sure the _Dark Witch_ can procure something manageable. Mr. Zabini did give me complete autonomy after all." Narcissa wrenched her hand free and set off for a section of the dress shop that gave Ron a case of the vapors.

"Now you've gone and done it." Hermione tittered. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you wound up sporting breasts as well."

Hermione yawned, and set off to find a lovely place to rest her feet. She moaned lightly the moment she sat upon a small, upholstered chair near the window. She smiled sleepily when a skittish shop assistant offered a footstool for her pleasure.

"Hermy-o-ninny."

Hermione's eyes had fluttered shut, her head falling back against the wall, as her hands cradled the growing mound of her abdomen. A slow smile broke across her lips, and it was easy to assume the stilted voice was one of the twins playing yet another of their pranks.

"Her-my-o-ninny." The guttural voice grunted a mangled version of her name once more, and Hermione's tired brown eyes flew open.

She gasped, quickly wiping the sleep from her eyes. She didn't stand, instead, she swallowed hard. The opaque, nearly black eyes stared at the burden Hermione protectively cradled, with an unrecognizable expression.

"Viktor." The word was barely a breath of a whisper, but the hulking wizard's hooded eyes never wavered. "Wh-what are you doing here?" Hermione struggled to sit up, and dragged her cloak over her lap.

"You are having child, I am thinking. Vhere is your husband? You are Veasley, yes?"

Viktor Krum was obviously uncomfortable in the dress shop, or perhaps it was simply in his nature to remain stiff and formal. His thick brow was furrowed in disapproval, the moment he discerned she was without escort. He pursed his lips and clenched his entwined fingers behind his back.

"No, I'm not a Weasley." Hermione whispered softly, her eyes flitting toward the picture window before surveying the dress shop for a familiar face.

Hermione slowly set her feet on the plush carpet and pushed herself to stand. Of course, that was the moment, her children decided to make their presence known by rolling beneath her hand. She gasped, the excitement causing her eyes to sparkle and her lips to upturn into a ridiculously large grin.

Viktor misjudged the situation and believed his old friend was in distress. He had difficulty looking beyond her extended stomach, and therefore missed the wide smile of delight. He grasped her by the elbow, prepared to uncover her partner and thoroughly thrash him for allowing Hermione to wander about without an escort.

"Would you mind taking your fucking hands off my wife?"

* * *

Lucius Malfoy pursed his lips, more than a little irritated by his current companions. When he had been informed Narcissa intended to spend the day shopping, he had nearly smiled. However, his astute wife narrowed her blue eyes and announced he was to spend the day entertaining their remaining guests.

He had escaped to the garden the moment the lady folk had vacated the Manor, in order to enjoy a reprieve from Weasleys. His prize peacock strutted near the water's edge, and it was nearly serene, except for the sounds of immature boys whooping in glee on their brooms.

"They're a bit loud for my tastes as well." Draco joined his father under the shade of a particularly large oak and shook his head.

"Your mother is punishing me." Lucius spat as he watched George Weasley nearly fall from his broom.

"Oh no, Father, not at all. She's punishing Potter and the Weasel. I've heard, from a very reliable source, she intends to force them into ball gowns. I can't wait to see _that_ splashed on the front page of the Prophet." Draco smiled broadly, completely belying his anxiety.

"I don't know why you insisted on informing them we have a Quidditch pitch." Lucius reached into the pocket of his navy blazer and removed bits of stale bread, which he tossed toward his peacocks and a few wayward ducks.

"Would you rather I call them down? I'm sure they'd regale us with wonderful stori…"

"Shut up." Lucius snarled and pelted his son with a handful of crusted bread.

"I'm going to tell Mother you've forgotten your manners." Draco deftly plucked bits of breadcrumbs from his silver button down, with a slight curl to his lips.

"You're completely insufferable. For your sanity, as well as mine, please go and retrieve your wife. I'm sure she'd be thankful for the reprieve. Your mother is more than capable of choosing a gown without tiring a woman with child."

"You…just said something nice…"

"I did not." Lucius sniffed, quite tempted to hurl a few jinxes into the sky and send Bluggers flying toward everyone in question.

"You did, I heard you. You're concerned. I didn't know you had it in you." Draco slapped his father's back and the two stood in silence before they cleared their throats in discomfort.

"Perhaps, take young Sullivan with you. He's been quite anxious this morning, considering yesterday's events…it's understandable. Langston and I shall retire to my study." Lucius scowled once more, his upper lip twitching as he heard George Weasley howling with delight.

Draco carefully contemplated his father's words. He hadn't intended to interrupt Hermione's impromptu shopping trip, but he hadn't been away from her this long since before their nuptials. It made him rather uneasy, though he didn't like to admit such things.

There were still moments when he considered himself weak. He valiantly tried to alter his perceptions, yet it was still quite the struggle. Draco constantly berated himself for ever letting Hermione go, and while he now had her, in every sense of the word, he couldn't help but lament all the time that was lost.

"You really love her." Langston Fawley observed his sort of son-in-law and the menagerie of emotions that scattered across the boy's face.

"Where's Sully?" Draco grunted, completely uncomfortable with the idea of discussing his affections with a man that barely knew Hermione.

"Draco," Langston hesitated, his long fingers hovering over Draco's shoulder, but it the underlying pleading in the man's voice that caused Draco to pause. "I'd like to get to know her. She's a stubborn sort of girl, and I don't blame her. I believe I would be bitter if I were her, but I want her in my life."

"Give her time, she'll get there. It's…a lot to take in. I'm off to the shops. Sullivan!" Draco shouted, cringing before he realised his mother wasn't home, and he smiled upon hearing the thundering footsteps of a man barely younger than he.

The conversation was lighthearted as Draco and Sullivan made their way down Diagon Alley. Draco remembered his first year of freedom after Hogwarts, yet it wasn't fill with nearly as much joy as Sullivan's. Sullivan, on the other hand, seemed content to regale Draco with gossip he had heard about his sister, voracious for the slightest bit of information.

"Wow, is that…Viktor Krum? Wasn't he the Bulgarian Seeker? Didn't he take Hermione to the Yule Ball? I heard he invited her to Bulgaria for the summer and…"

Sullivan suddenly found himself standing alone on the cobblestone street outside the dress shop. His blue eyes widened as it seemed Draco was set on confronting the hulking Bulgarian, and Sullivan hurried inside. He maneuvered through racks and racks of feathers and crystals before he stumbled into Ginny Weasley.

"…fucking hands off my wife?" Draco Malfoy's cheeks were reddened from anger, and his fists were clenched at his side.

"Draco…" Hermione was startled to see her husband glowering at her, and frowned, before glancing between her and Viktor Krum.

She stepped backward, gently pulling her arm from Viktor's sure grip, and sighed. She'd always known Draco was a bit possessive, but the flash of jealousy in his eyes was what surprised her most. She fervently hoped he wasn't going to resort to violence.

"Malfoy." Viktor grunted, his entire face contorted into a deep frown, even as he watched Hermione staring into the pale man's face. "Hermyoninny, This man your husband?"

"Yes." Hermione dismissed Viktor without another thought, immediately moving toward her obviously furious husband.

Draco grit his teeth together despite Hermione's soothing palm on his cheek. He stared into the soulless black eyes of the former Bulgarian Seeker, carefully calculating where his fists would strike the man's chiseled jaw. He saw his thoughts mirrored and jutted forward his chin in a silent dare.

Hermione frowned as she glanced between the two, completely unsurprised by the male bravado. Instead, she distracted Draco by placing his hands on her abdomen. His attention immediately shifted, with a curious sort of frown, until he felt his children thumping wildly beneath his hands. His darkened grey eyes lightened with awe, and he completely disregarded Viktor Krum existence, in favour of bestowing a searing kiss upon his wife's waiting lips.

"Viktor?!" Ginny Weasley squeaked, her cheeks a wondrous shade of red, her eyes wide, though it couldn't be discerned if she was filled with excitement or fear.

Draco calmed significantly, and finally managed to embrace his wife. He glanced to Sullivan to see him casting furtive glances toward the petite shop assistant, and nearly smiled. Gently, he guided Hermione out of the path of the whirlwind that was Ginevra Weasley.

Hermione huffed and shook her head, but for the sake of appeasing his fury, she acquiesced. She offered Sullivan a small smile, but he was entirely too busy staring at Viktor Krum. She never understood the allure of Quidditch players, but it seemed her brother suffered from the same affliction.

"What's happening?" Sullivan Fawley whispered near Draco's shoulder as he watched Viktor Krum and Ginny Weasley carefully round each other in the corner of the dress shop.

"Don't you lot know anything?" Fred Weasley clapped his hands on Sullivan's shoulders, startling the boy. "Viktor Krum is Gideon's father."


	23. Guilt & Punishments

**AN: I cannot promise there are no errors, but I tried. I _can_ promise this story is at its close. The last chapter needs a good once over, but I expect it to be up in the next few days  & perhaps an epilogue of snippets as well.**

 **As always...*enjoy***

* * *

Guilt & Punishments

* * *

The insistent tapping of the owl at the window forced Draco to raise his head from his pillow. He glared at the bastard bird, wishing his wand was within reach. While he was positive Hermione would frown upon such things, he wasn't against blasting the fucking owl to bits.

Draco finally managed to drag himself out of his bed, but it was under silent protest. He stifled his groan of discontent in order to keep from waking his wife and lightly placed his feet on the dark gray carpet. He cursed lightly under his breath as he tripped over Hermione's knickers, which aided in improving his mood.

"Ruddy bird." Draco growled as he wrenched the parchment from the owl's leg. "Oh lovely." The sarcasm wasn't lost on the tawny owl that simply flew back out the open window.

"Draco?" Hermione mumbled, her left hand searching for him, but coming up empty.

"Yeah love, I'm here. My mother has invited Langston and Sully to tea, and is demanding our presence." Draco tossed the crumpled letter onto the nightstand and climbed back into bed with a sigh.

"Why didn't she just knock…" Hermione cuddled into his side, reveling in the feel of skin against skin.

"I Silenced our room. I love her, but I needed my mother to bugger off so I could properly shag my wife." Draco lifted the light coverlet and smiled at Hermione's quite noticeable bulge. "You're bigger than Tonks."

"Are you saying I'm fat? I'm not fat. I'll have you know I'm carrying not one, but two of your spawn and…"

"I like it." Draco pecked the tip of her nose as he tucked her mussed locks behind her ear. "You'll never make it to Yule."

"I know, but that's not uncommon where multiple births are concerned. Gods, I'm never going to regain my figure. I'm going to be flabby and disgusting and you're stuck with me." She sniffled as she struggled to sit up and Draco withdrew a handkerchief from the nightstand drawer, knowing the waterworks were about to start.

"Hermione, we're magical. You're going to look wonderful, and I'll love you forever regardless." Draco offered her the handkerchief, which she used to blow her nose loudly.

"I can't believe it's already May. Where has the time gone? I'm ready to move. Is it time yet?" Hermione cringed, as she realised the Silencing Charm had been removed, and the telltale sounds of Narcissa's heels stopped just outside the bedchamber door.

"Now you're just being unreasonable."

"I know. I can't seem to help it. Did you know Cissa suggested Ginny have her conversations with Viktor here? Something about neutral territory. I told her I'd keep an eye on Gideon. He really is the sweetest thing. I'm still surprised you and Viktor didn't come to blows.."

"It wasn't from a lack of trying. Bloody Woman Weasley Twin yanked his sister and Apparated away. The other ginger git took Krum and did the same. There wasn't much I could do about it, now was there?" Draco huffed, yet gently helped Hermione to her feet.

"You damn well know their names, Draco."

"D'ya think Fred will make us call him Mrs. Zabini?" Draco wiggled his eyebrows and softly stroked his wife's stomach with a reverence she'd never witnessed in him before.

"Don't change the subject." Hermione rolled her shoulders, as the beginnings of a headache throbbed at the base of her skull. "Please be kind to them, they're my family."

"Except they're not. I'm your family. Sullivan is your family. Langston is your family. You love them, the Weasleys I mean, which is incredibly infuriating by the way, and I tolerate them for you. I was even cordial to the Weasel, so if I want to call one of those blasted twins the Woman Weasley, I've earned the right!" Draco growled, knowing he was being slightly petulant, and Hermione sighed.

"I consider them part of my family, Draco." Hermione slowly meandered toward the en-suite washroom and splashed tepid water on her warm cheeks.

"I need you to love me more." Draco crossed his arms, and despite his anger, Hermione had to admit he looked quite fetching shirtless with his lounge pants riding low on his hips.

Hermione patted her cheeks with a divinely soft hand towel, and contemplated his words. Her first instinct was to become defensive, but she didn't wish to argue with him. Her relationships had often been fractured due to her closeness with Harry and the Weasleys, and while she didn't wish her love for them to mar her marriage, she also wasn't willing to give them up.

"Draco, I married you…I…"

"You can't use that. You didn't even know who you were at the time." Draco's hands clenched and his cheeks reddened during his attempt to rein in his temper.

"Alright then, but, it doesn't change the fact that I love you, and I'm having your children. I moved into the Manor for you. Do you think I wanted to be here? I did it for you, to ease your anxiety. You were horrid to me before we married! I didn't know who I was, and you were treating me like a thorn in your side, and I put up with it! The Weasleys didn't treat Astoria poorly! They took her in when she didn't have anyone at all, and my faux parents deserted me at the first sign of trouble. It was Harry who suspected long before you did, but that doesn't matter in the least, because Draco Malfoy wishes me to love him more." Hermione threw her hands in the hand, and turned from him, angry just as much as she was hurt.

"Oh yes, all hail the Weasleys! Can't forget how wonderful Mother Weasley was upon discovering Hermione Granger was married to Draco Malfoy. Oh wait, that's right. She hasn't even sent you a bloody owl has she? Your former wonderful fiancé hasn't spoken more than a dozen words to you since discovering the switch as well, but by all means, continue telling me how bloody wonderful they are." Draco gestured in a condescending manner, and ignored the prick of tears pooling in her eyes.

"That's not fair." Hermione whispered, her head suddenly swimming as a gentle hum filled her ears.

"Yes it is. It's the truth, Mrs. Malfoy. My mother knew who you were before the wedding. She cared for you. She dealt with my father so that you didn't have to, but I suppose that doesn't matter because she's a Malfoy rather than a Weasley. She's hosting Blaise and Wonder Twin's wedding here, at the Manor, despite my father's objections, and she's done it for you. It's not as though I'm demanding you choose, you insufferable witch. This isn't a bloody ultimatum, and as the brightest witch of the age, you'd think you'd fucking know that." Draco stormed into the walk-in closet, and slammed the door behind him.

It was a relatively easy to manner to cast a Silencing Charm on the space and scream until he was nearly hoarse. He wasn't particularly fond of his possessive nature, but he had learned to live with it. It was difficult for Draco to come to terms with the fact, he detested sharing his wife. It had taken him so long to finally win her, knowing her affections spread further than him, made him wish to blast everything in his path.

Hermione pressed her hands to her cheeks, and wobbled on her feet. She knew something was wrong, but was incapable of pinpointing the exact issue. She attempted to step forward, only to crumple to her knees. Her lips parted, and swallowing her pride, she called for Draco.

The pounding near the base of her skull had intensified, causing her to groan. Hermione realised Draco had probably Silenced the closet in order to shout into the great void. She felt the sweat beading on her forehead, yet managed to stretch her fingers forward and knock her wand off the nightstand to the floor.

"Draco!" Hermione barely managed to remove the Charm, and shout for her husband before she began dry heaving with shaky limbs.

"What? Where the fuck are you?" Draco wrenched open the closet door, now dressed in pressed, slate gray slacks and a navy button down. "Oh shit. Mother!" He hurried toward the washroom and wet a hand towel before crouching beside his wife and mopping the back of her sweaty neck. "Don't pretend you can't hear me! I know you're there! Send for a fucking Healer!"

Narcissa Malfoy stepped into her son's bedchamber with cold blue eyes. She blinked slowly, and perused her daughter-in-law with pursed lips and judgement. Her gaze flicked to her son, and she arched an eyebrow.

"Draco, take her to St. Mungo's. You know the Healers refuse to make house visits since your unsavory interactions with Healer Green. I'll send the Weasleys a missive as well, Merlin knows she'd wish her… _family_ …present." Narcissa left the room with light gray robes swishing, and Draco grimaced.

"My mother's so fucking passive aggressive. Come on then, let's get you to the Healers. I'm sure the entire Weasley clan will be waiting for you upon arrival. I'll inform Langston and it will be nearly impossible to keep Sullivan away. He really adores you." Draco kept a continuous litany while he carried his wife through the corridors of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione remained silent, and allowed herself to be lulled by the soothing sound of his voice. She felt better upon feeling their children continue their somersaults, but she knew something was wrong. The sharp, stabbing pain in her eyes forced Hermione to close them, and she clung to Draco.

"Draco," Hermione's wispy whisper drew his attention, just before he stepped into the Floo in the parlor.

Draco dropped his fistful of Floo Powder and offered his wife his full attention. He kissed her brow, and ignored the pinched face of his mother. He adjusted her carefully, and impatiently waited for her to speak.

"No…no Weasleys." Hermione struggled to speak and her thumb stroked the side of his neck. "Just you. Just you."

* * *

Tremaine Fawley gnashed her teeth, the shackles on her wrists shaking with her effort to free herself. Her skin was raw and chaffed, which was only exacerbated by her constant struggle. Her gailors pushed her forward, snickering as she stumbled.

She snarled at the Wizengamot, even as she was shoved into the singular chair in the center of the room. Tremaine spat on the floor and shook her chains, refusing to be broken. She perched on the edge of the chair with her head held high, absolutely certain she would be released.

"Tremaine Avery Greengrass, you have been accused of murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, casting an Unforgivable, and…"

"Fuck you, you Mudblood loving hypocrites! Your judgement means nothing to me! If the Dark Lord were here you would be cowering in your piss covered robes, begging for your LIVES!" Tremaine Fawley shook her shackles, her hair standing on end as her face was contorted with rage.

"Silencio!" The Chief Warlock's upper lip twitched with obvious distaste as he cast the Charm. "Does the prisoner have a solicitor?" He half turned toward the Wizengamot wearily awaiting a reply.

"I'll speak for her."

"And you are?" The Chief Warlock pushed up his half moon spectacles as he peered down at the young wizard.

"Sullivan Fawley, sir. Tremaine Fawley is my mother."

The Chief Warlock carefully regarded the boy. He had to admit he was wary, but it wasn't unheard of for family members to step forward in defence of their loved ones. Considering the prisoner's outburst, he was apt to deny the boy, but there was something in his calculating blue eyes that caused him to nod.

"Speak your peace."

Sullivan Fawley cleared his throat, and raked his fingers through his dark hair, without glancing in his mother's direction even once. He straightened his robes, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He knew it was going to be difficult, but he owed it to his sister, and to himself to speak the truth of the matter.

"I suppose you're expecting me to defend her, but that's not why I'm here." Sullivan ignored the barely concealed whispers, cognizant of the fact his mother had stopped her senseless thrashing. "I wasn't there when Tremaine Avery cajoled vagabond Muggles to murder my sister's mother, so I can't attest to that, though she admitted as much. However, I was present when she attempted to murder my sister."

"Tremaine Fawley is accused of murdering a Muggle." A small, pinched face witch interrupted Sullivan, and it was obvious from the set of her lips, she believed Muggles were beneath Wizards.

"Yes, I'm aware, thank you. Stella Bagley was a Muggle. Hermione Granger is her daughter. Langston Fawley is her father, just as he is mine." Sullivan flashed a small, smile, and returned his attention to the Chief Warlock. "I was there when Tremaine Avery spouted her hateful rhetoric. I was there when she drew her wand. I was there when she cast the Killing Curse directly toward a pregnant Hermione Malfoy. If it weren't for Professor Snape's intervention, I have no doubt the Wizarding World would be mourning the loss of one of the brightest witches of the ages." Sullivan blinked hard, and swallowed audibly.

"There's no need to…" The Chief Warlock attempted to silence Sullivan, out of pity more than anything else, but Sullivan carried on, determined to speak his peace.

"Yes there is, sir. I apologise for interrupting. It was quite rude of me, and my father taught me better than that. Tremaine Avery Fawley has always been a prejudiced witch. She locked herself in her bedchamber for a fortnight after Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who. She mourned his death.

'I like to think we're better than that. I like to think we've made strides toward a unified future, but with people like my mother in the world, I fear that may never happen. There will always be those that look down on Muggle-born witches. There will always be those that honestly believe we're superior only due to the fact, we're magical, and that's a load of bollocks. We're all human beings, regardless of our gifts, and it's time we started acting like it.

'I know I haven't the right to demand anything of the Wizengamot. I know I'm considered a child in the grand scheme of things, and that doesn't bother me in the least. I'm simply asking that you think long and hard about ever allowing Tremaine Avery to see the light of day."

Sullivan Fawley bowed slightly and turned to leave, but the Chief Warlock nosily cleared his throat, causing him to pause. He glanced over his shoulder to see the Wizengamot whispering furiously. He shrugged, prepared to continue on his way, when the side door to the chamber flew open.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The Chief Warlock's jowls shook as he addressed the rumpled brunette wizard stumbling past the Silenced yet seething prisoner.

"Uh, hi. Sorry about that. I hadn't planned on coming at all really, but there's been a bit of an emergency with my daughter and I thought it best to retrieve my son."

"Dad?" Sullivan gaped at his father, absolutely certain he hadn't informed anyone of his mother's scheduled appearance before the Wizengamot.

"Found that owl you hid from me. Shouldn't have left it in your cloak pocket." Langston smiled tightly, but it didn't reach his eyes, even as he attempted to avoid even a subtle gaze upon his wife.

"This is most unusual." The Chief Warlock muttered, but made no effects to have the wizard removed. "I suppose you've something to say as well?"

Langston Fawley tapped the corner of his bottom lip with his forefinger and furrowed his brows. He had honestly only stepped into the chamber to retrieve his son. He supposed if he had been properly informed as to Tremaine's impending fate, he would have discussed attending with both his children. However, now that he was there, it would be silly to allow such an opportunity to slip through his fingers.

"Alright then." Langston paused, and waited for the subtle nod from the Chief Warlock to continue. "Stella Bagley was a Muggle. She was also the love of my life. My father was in the midst of Betrothal Negotiations, but I really had no intention of following through with any of them. I simply wanted Stella. It was difficult, considering I'm Pureblood and hadn't the slightest idea where many Muggle things were concerned. Her sisters absolutely detested me, but I was determined to prove to them, and to Stella that I was worth the effort.

'She sent me away, Stella did. I didn't understand then, but I realise now it was due to her pregnancy. I was young. I was cocky. I was utterly and completely stupid. Stella refused to see me, and I could just hear my father in my head, telling me how fickle Muggles were. It was easier to believe him when she wouldn't speak to me.

'I married Tremaine Avery, and my parents were finally pleased with me. I did my duty, but apparently I imbibed entirely too much firewhiskey one evening and told my wife all about my love. I couldn't let her go, you see. It was terrible of me, and I detest admitting it, but I would have asked Stella to be my mistress. I can't recall all that was said, but in the end, I never heard from Stella Bagley again. Her family moved, and it wasn't until recently I learned she had died. Except she didn't simply die from a long illness or an accident, my wife had Stella murdered." Langston wiped his forehead, and drew a shaky breath.

"Do you require a moment, sir?" The Chief Warlock with his jiggling jowls and foggy spectacles, peered down at Langston, and it seemed he understood the man's anguish.

"No sir, thank you. It wasn't bad enough Tremaine murdered Stella. It seemed, she wished to murder my daughter as well. The daughter I never knew I had. My newly married, pregnant daughter, but that's not the worst bit. You see, Tremaine didn't stop. Our only son, Sullivan was present. He didn't waste a moment when it came to confronting his mother. He rushed toward her as she cast the Killing Curse, and I…I was running for him. She would have killed him if it hadn't been for Severus Snape.

'She doesn't believe life is precious. She doesn't have the slightest bit of love in heart, let alone affection. She has an agenda, and her means to an end is murder. Death is too good for her though. If I had my wish, well, I'd rather she never saw the light of day. I'd rather she rotted away, with only her own warped thoughts for company, and after today, I'd rather never think of her again. If it pleases the Wizengamot, I'd like to be excused, and take my son to see his sister."

The Chief Warlock locked his watery eyes on Langston, yet tilted his head toward the whispering of the rest of the Wizengamot. It seemed, they were all in agreeance, and it wasn't long before he was nodding gravely. He quickly waved his wand, and removed the Silencing Charm from the snarling prisoner.

"Tremaine Avery Langston. The Wizengamot is older than the Ministry, and it can't be said we've willingly hurtled toward the present. Ordinarily, we would simply sentence you to house restriction, as we've never held Muggles in high regard."

Tremaine smiled and straightened her back. She was very nearly certain they would release her. She was an Avery after all. Galleons normally bought freedoms, and she had plenty.

"However, we frown heavily upon using Unforgivable Curses. We are abjectly against attempting to murder proven witches, such as Hermione Granger Malfoy. We _were_ prepared to offer a light sentence, ensuring your release within the year."

"Wonderful! Simply wonderful! Do expect a hefty sum of galleons in thanks." The prisoner tittered happily, her eyes shining with murderous glee.

"The Wizengamot sentences you to Azkaban, for as long as you choose to draw breath. You are not only a danger to society, but, a danger to your family. We have taken the recommendations of Auror Harry Potter into consideration as well. You can thank him for your special accommodations." The Chief Warlock nodded curtly to Langston and Sullivan before returning his attention to the stunned witch.

"Y-you can't do that. I'm…I'm Tremaine Avery. I'm a Pureblood witch of the highest regard! It was only a Muggle! A Muggle and her Mudblood, since when does the Wizengamot care about such things!" Tremaine sputtered, her hands dropping into her lap as the weight of her shackles was a perfect analogy for her life.

Langston and Sullivan quickly slipped out, no longer interested in hearing Tremaine speak. The closing of the heavy door was symbolic as well as literal, and it eased the angst in their hearts. Sullivan slipped his hand into his father's, and the large hand squeezed back in quiet understanding.

As for Tremaine Langston, she was immediately transported to Azkaban, under the constraints of yet another Silencing Charm. Of course, such things would no longer be an issue, due to the lovely cell Harry Potter had suggested. She balked, and fought against the guards upon seeing her new home, but a few Stinging Hexes later, Tremaine was properly subdued.

The walls were splashed with an inky black. The floors matched and it was impossible to discern the beginning and the end. The moment the heavy door locked, Tremaine was cast into utter and complete darkness.

She was unable to hear the guards speaking outside her cell. She was unable to see her hand in front of her face. The sensory deprivation caused her ears to hum, and it was the only sound she _could_ hear. Tremaine's fingers danced across the wall, and it didn't take her long to find some gouges nearest the door.

"B…E…L.." Tremaine muttered to no one as she traced the letters, attempting to make sense of her situation. "R…I…X. No. No. No. This is not my life. This is not my life! THIS IS NOT MY LIFE!"

Tremaine Fawley shouted herself hoarse, finally curling into a ball on the cold, harsh floor, because you see, it was her life.

* * *

Draco Malfoy watched from the sidelines with a scowl painted on his pale pink lips. He despised being within the walls of St. Mungo's, but it couldn't be helped. He observed the Mediwitches and Healers administer various Potions, and run diagnostics with their Mediwands.

It wasn't the worst thing he had ever experienced, but the impending influx of Weasley made a difficult situation, much, much worse. Draco wanted to blame his mother for sending an owl in the first place, but he couldn't. He supposed he would have done the same thing in her position. His mother wasn't known for her ability to maintain her composure in the face of anguish.

Draco knew his mother was quite fond of Hermione, though she wasn't apt to admit to such things. Narcissa was set in her ways, and while she had made a valiant effort to alter her beliefs, when she was hurt, she regressed to her Pureblood passive aggressive mannerisms.

"Will she be alright?" Draco finally snarled at the Healer bent over his wife.

"Draco…" Hermione's soft voice broke through the haze of his anger, and despite the fact he was still quite a bit put out, he grasped her hand.

He avoided her warm brown eyes, in favour of staring at their fingers. He watched his thumb gently stroke across the back of her hand, and impatiently waited for the Healer to answer his fucking question.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, she'll be alright. It seems her blood pressure, as well as her blood sugar, were particularly low. She'll need to eat at regular intervals multiple times per day. We'll keep her for a few hours for observation and…" The Healer paused as it sounded as though a tiny herd of elephants was racing through the corridors, but Draco knew better, and his heart sunk.

Finally, he glanced at his wife's face, only to see her cheeks flush with happiness and surprise as the Weasley family surged into her hospital room. It was only a matter of seconds before Draco was succinctly pushed aside by an overbearing Molly.

He could have waited patiently near the door, as even the Healer vacated the room, but he didn't. Draco watched the light in her eyes. He watched her lips spread into the likes of a smile he hadn't seen since they married. He didn't like it one bit, but at least Ron Weasley was hovering near the door, instead of fawning over Hermione.

"Astoria made me come." Ron whispered to Draco, as though they were friends.

"I don't care."

"I didn't want to. I figured you had it under control and all that." Ron ignored Draco's sour demeanor with an easy shrug.

"I wish the rest of your family didn't want to as well." Draco muttered, glaring quite heavily at Hermione as she embraced Molly with a shuddering sigh. "I can't be here. She might have said she just wanted me, but she fucking lied. She doesn't need me, she's got your lot. I'm sure they'll see her home. I've got to go."

"Hermione's always been stubborn, you should know that better than anyone. Bloody hell, she would have married me, rather than admit we weren't a good fit, and that would have been a disaster." Ron looked sadly toward his childhood friend and shook his head, seemingly disappointed with her.

"Tell me something I don't know, Weasley." Draco paused with his hand on the door, unable to resist regarding Hermione once more.

"Draco?" Hermione finally glanced over the sea of gingers to see her husband standing in the doorway of her hospital room.

Draco blinked slowly, his grey eyes lightly touching each and every Weasley packed into the room. He met her eyes, and raised his eyebrows in silent question. Hermione's cheeks were splotched with shades of red in her embarrassment, yet she said nothing. He nodded curtly and vacated the room without another word, as there was nothing left to say. Hermione had made her choice.

Ron sighed, a bit dramatically and shook his head. It was a simple matter to pull Astoria to the side, and after a few moments of whispered conversation, she was demanding their attention. She clapped loudly, until finally, the Weasleys startled eyes were staring at her.

"Oi, we've interfered. I do believe we've chased Hermione's husband from her bedside, and that simply won't do. We're more than capable of sending owls and gifts, rather than barraging her with questions. She's obviously fine, and we've got to a few finishing touches to complete for Fred's wedding."

While Astoria Greengrass wasn't yet a Weasley, she certainly commanded an audience. She tapped her foot with arched eyebrows and a thin set to her lips. It was obvious she wasn't going to tolerate their procrastination.

George and Angelina were the first to leave, with promises of owls, and a quick kiss on Hermione's cheek. Molly lingered, as everyone knew she would, but finally Arthur managed to get her to the door. She frowned heavily at Astoria, and the younger witch merely blinked and waited.

"Give me a minute, yeah?" Ron stroked Astoria's cheek, and it amazed Hermione to see Astoria nearly melt under the gesture.

"Don't be long." Astoria licked her lips with less than subtle promises, and waved toward Hermione before leaving.

Hermione admitted she was feeling quite conflicted about nearly everything. She hadn't wanted the Weasleys to leave, but she hadn't wished Draco to leave either. She was tired of having rows over seemingly nonsensical issues.

"It's still strange to see Draco Malfoy love you as much as he does." Ron chuckled lightly and sat beside Hermione's bed. "You've still got a temper. You've always got to be right. You'll never understand why others grow angry with you. It's nice to know some things don't change."

"He's being ridiculous!" Hermione huffed loudly, with an indignation Ron remembered quite well. "He expects me to choose him above all others. It simply isn't feasible. He needs to understand there are other people in my life that are just as important as him."

"There shouldn't be, not really. I mean, think about it, would you? I have a rather large family and I love my parents and my siblings. However, I've got Astoria now. I realise I was a bit of an idiot and refused to admit she wasn't you, but regardless, she's the most important person in my life. She's carrying my child, there's nothing more important than that. If she wished me to move from the Burrow, I'd do it without even hesitating. I think maybe, that's what love really is." Ron patted her hand in an absentminded sort of way, and Hermione wondered if his thoughts had strayed to his fiancée.

"I didn't ask him to owl the lot of you. I told him I didn't want anyone else, but that wasn't good enough it seems." Hermione sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, and I don't much like that."

"You've got to let me go." Ron smiled, but it wasn't the sort filled with happiness.

He realised their lives were changing. They were growing up, whether they wished to or not. They were getting married, and having children, and it wasn't the life any of them had imagined.

"Let you go? What do you mean let you go? You're my brother. You're my family." Hermione blustered, while shoving her dark hair off her splotchy face.

"But I'm not though, am I? I was never your brother. Harry's been your brother, you've always had that sort of relationship with him. I'm simply the boy you used to love. It's not fair of you to hang onto us above all others, when you've got another family, your real family waiting on the sidelines. I'll always love you, but it's not the same for me, and it shouldn't be. We've moved on, we're all grown up. You've actually got to grow up now. My family will always love you, but you've got to make room for your future." Ron tilted his head, aware of the familiar clip of shoes pacing in the corridor.

"Ronald Weasley, when did you get to be so smart?" Hermione embraced him, her heart sinking as she realised Ron was absolutely correct.

"I've always been smart!" Ron puffed out his chest, quite proud of himself.

"Oh sweetie, you must not tell lies."

Draco Malfoy twisted the door handle, stiffening as he caught sight of his wife embracing the Weasel, but he forced himself to relax. He stood still, and silently watched them say their goodbyes. It wasn't an air of lovers, it was nothing more than friendship, which eased his ire.

"Talk to her. If you're lucky, she might actually listen." Ron awkwardly offered his hand, which caused Draco to flinch.

"I've never been particularly lucky, Weasley." Draco quipped easily while finally shaking the freckled hand, if a bit harshly.

"Don't say that, you got the girl, and that's pretty damn lucky." Ron offered a small half shrug, but thoughts of Hermione and Draco were easily dismissed when he spied Astoria waiting for him.

"Seems you did as well." Draco inclined his head toward the woman he almost married, but his grey eyes didn't linger. He was much more interested in the brunette witch nibbling her lip across the room.

The two wizards regarded each other for the barest hint of a moment. They came to a silent understanding of civility. They'd never be friends, but for the sake of the witches they loved, they'd make do.


	24. Petals & Tiaras

**AN: If it weren't for Ashley...the description would be nonexistent. It is definitely not my forte.**

 **As always...enjoy. *kisses***

* * *

Petals & Tiaras

* * *

"I can't believe you're making me do this." Ron Weasley struggled into his wrinkled red shirt, with a scowl on his lips.

Astoria lounged in his narrow bed without an ounce of sympathy for her intended. She ran her fingers through her dark hair and yawned, bored with the entire conversation. She knew Ron would bluster a bit, but in the end, he would do what was asked of him. It was his nature.

"I'm not _making_ you do anything. I simply asked a question." Astoria sat up slowly, carefully keeping her naked breasts concealed from probing eyes, and smiled.

"Tori," Ron whined while he yanked on his muddy brown socks and shoved his feet into his brown loafers, "you asked me if I'd rather wear a dress, or never shag you again. There's really not much choice in the matter when presented with those options."

"And yet it was still a choice, Ron Weasley. If I recall correctly, you hesitated…"

"I didn't! I was…simply appalled that you would be so bloody underhanded." Ron had half a mind to yank the pale flowered sheet from his fiancée, but he restrained himself, as he didn't wish to anger her.

"Oh darling, when will you learn? I'm Slytherin." Astoria batted her sooty lashes with a slow smile, and wrapped the sheet around her body before standing. "Do you suppose Draco and Jeannie are doing well?"

"I don't know," Ron sighed, "I tried to talk to Malfoy a bit, but he wasn't particularly receptive. Hermione's a stubborn woman and well, Malfoy is Malfoy. He didn't leave, which I suppose says quite a lot." Ron shrugged and teasingly tugged on the sheet, but Astoria slapped his freckled hands.

"We haven't the time, Ronald. If you hadn't demanded a morning romp, we would be well on our way. We're already late. Your mother and Cissa are going to have our heads." Astoria dressed quickly, knowing her ensemble didn't matter much.

"I don't even care. They're going to shove me into ruffles and…and…lace. I'm going to be itchy and look ridiculous." Ron rolled his blue eyes heavenward and offered Astoria his arm.

"Keep complaining, and I'll force you into a delightful frock for our nuptials as well." Astoria warned with fire in her eyes, and Ron gulped loudly.

"You wouldn't…" He whispered softly, with one hand on the door handle.

"Don't tempt me." Astoria smiled prettily and batted her eyes as Ron twisted the handle.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Molly bellowed up the stairs, causing Ron to jerk away from the earsplitting sound.

"We've seriously got to move."

* * *

"I don't know why you're being so difficult." Harry Potter grumbled as he stepped out of the Floo.

"I'm not. I'm simply saying, if you want me to wear the bloody ring, the least you could do is properly propose." Nymphadora Tonks stepped into the Malfoy's drawing room with perfectly coiffed bubble gum pink hair, while wearing a dressing gown.

"It's not as if I didn't try. You know I love you. I mean, I might be shit at saying it, but I feel it. I wouldn't have gone to my vault, and removed my mother's ring to present to you, if I didn't." Harry brushed a bit of link from his shoulder, and completely missed the glint of shock painted on Nymphadora's face.

"Your mother's ring? Y-you were giving me your mother's ring?" Her voice squeaked, and Harry smiled.

"Yup." Harry popped his lips, quite happily, and removed the small box that had been burning a hole in his pocket.

"Give it to me. Give it to me right now." Tonks held out her hand, and Harry noted it was trembling slightly, which gave her breasts a delightful little jiggle.

"Hmm, no I don't think I will. You see, my witch wants a bit of pomp and circumstance rather than heartfelt words. I think it would be best if I held onto it and…dammit Tonks!"

Harry was knocked off his feet, and landed quite heavily on the sharp antique footstool. Vaguely, he wondered if the piece had splintered beneath him, but he was focused on the tornado sitting on his chest. He was being pummeled by his very pregnant, sort of fiancée, and Harry struggled to catch his breath.

"Take it, witch!" Harry offered the box, with closed eyes and ragged breaths.

Nymphadora Tonks awkwardly climbed off Harry and flipped open the box to spy Lily Potter's wedding ring. She'd never held an heirloom that meant so much to someone before. She felt cherished, and promptly burst into tears.

"Yes." She finally sniffled, and Harry rolled his eyes.

Of course, he didn't allow her to see such things as he slowly ambled to his feet, wincing at the sudden pain in his ribs. He declared he would never understand women, even if he lived to be one hundred and fifty. They were a strange, emotional lot, but he loved Tonks, and that was enough.

"Finally!" Astoria huffed from the doorjamb, with amusement dancing in her dark eyes.

"Hey. I was going to do it all proper on bended knee and everything, but you ruined it, if I recall." Harry scowled at Astoria, but he delicately placed his mother's ring on Nymphadora's finger just the same.

"It's entirely too early to listen to Potter's insufferable voice." Draco Malfoy drawled lazily, with his wife tucked into his side.

Hermione elbowed him, but he barely flinched from her assault. While Harry was busy glowering at Astoria, Draco grasped his wife's elbow, and allowed his knuckles to linger as they grazed against the side of her breast. He smirked upon drawing a gasp from her, and quickly pecked her lips.

"I'm still angry with you." Hermione grunted as she attempted to remove herself from his grasp, but he held tight.

"No you're not. You're simply grumpy I kept you up most of the night screaming my name. Not to worry, love, I'm sure we can squeeze in a kip later." Draco winked, enjoying the furious blush of embarrassment sprinkled across Hermione's lightly freckled cheeks.

"Why on earth are you simply standing about?" Narcissa Malfoy burst into the drawing room with Molly Weasley hot on her heels. "Mr. Potter, you and Mr. Weasley are to join your brother George in the guest suite at the top of the stairs. I do believe your ensembles have arrived from the shops."

"Hermione dear, you're looking worn down. I think Sullivan is waiting for you in the sunroom." Molly patted Hermione's forearm in an absent minded sort of manner, which didn't bother Hermione as much as she thought it would.

She knew, Molly wasn't disregarding her, the older woman was simply focused on her son's wedding. Strange as it was to admit, Hermione couldn't wait to see the look upon Lucius Malfoy's face when he spied Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in their wedding ensemble. She fervently hoped the hired photographer would capture the moment for posterity.

"I have escorted Mr. Krum to the study. I thought it best if he remained separate from Draco, knowing his temper as I do." Narcissa pursed her lips, but her son only shrugged without remorse.

"I'm not sorry. I should have pummeled him. Bloody wanker was touching my wife. No one gets to touch my wife, especially not Bulgarian Seekers that dated her." Draco snarled and possessively anchored Hermione to his chest, and dropped his head to her shoulder. "I don't like him. I can't quite believe he fathered the girl Weasley's child. Why is he here? Am I going to have to put up with him all day?"

"Take note Hermione, your children are going to whine exactly like him." Harry chuckled lightly, but a swift pinch of his bum silenced his amusement.

* * *

Viktor Krum was not that sort of wizard that was gifted an endless supply of patience. His thick brow was furrowed in concentration as he paced the length of the study with his hands firmly clasped behind his back. He growled under his breath, his upper lip twitching into a scowl as every tick of the grandfather clock signified another moment passed.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny Weasley stepped into Lucius Malfoy's study unnoticed, and had observed Viktor's pacing for a few moments before gathering her courage to speak.

"Vhere is my son?" Viktor snarled at the younger witch, softening slightly as she backed away from his ire.

"He's with my father." Ginny jutted her chin forward, and relied upon her Gryffindor courage to face down her son's father.

"Hmpf." Viktor grunted in a guttural sort of manner, and Ginny relaxed.

She knew he was angry with her, furious even, but in her mind, it was his fault she had returned to her family in the first place. In retrospect, Ginny realised their argument was superfluous at best, but it was too late. She had already packed her bags, and whisked Gideon away from his father.

"You are happy here?" Viktor struggled with his words, unsure how to converse with the fiery witch.

"No." Ginny sighed and took a step further into the dark study. "I'm not happy, but I'm not unhappy either. This was…this was something I needed to do."

"It is done. You vill come home. Son need his father. You do vhat you need and is done." Viktor crossed his arms, and glowered at her, quite perturbed with her volatile nature.

"Viktor, you can't just order me about! You're the one that told me to go in the first place, and now you're angry that I did? You're ridiculous. It's good for Gideon to know his family here. I'm tired of being hidden away in your stupid country because you're too embarrassed to admit you fathered a child." Ginny marched forward, her brown eyes flashing with fury, and she even managed to draw her wand, but Viktor was faster.

He wrenched her wand from her hand, and hurled it across the room. He squeezed her wrists, even as Ginny flailed against him. Despite her argumentative nature, Viktor had missed her. He had grown used to her company, and deep down he knew if he hadn't imbibed quite so much firewhiskey, they'd probably be lounging in his four-poster bed.

"I leave her for you. I shame my family for you. She vas not deserve to be treated this vay."

"And what about me, Viktor? What did I deserve? It's not my bloody fault your family was planning your marriage to a lovely Bulgarian witch. You didn't even have the decency to tell me, until I fell pregnant with Gideon. You…you hid me away." Ginny's voice cracked and while her fists were still furiously curled, Viktor held fast. "You said they needed time. You said lots of pretty things actually, but it never changed."

"You leave." Viktor loosened his hold, yet held her tightly against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of freshly mown grass and homemade soap.

"You told me to leave. It was a disagreement! I was unhappy! I missed my family! You thought I missed Harry, and I did, but only because he was such a huge part of my life. It's your fault I came back here in the first place. If you hadn't gotten completely pissed and told me to…go back to The Boy Who Lived, I wouldn't have left. I thought you wanted me to go. I thought…you were ashamed of me." Ginny leaned into his bulky muscular form with ease, as she reveled in the familiarity of his embrace.

Viktor Krum nodded slowly. He hadn't been able to understand all of her words, but he got the gist of the matter. They had both been hasty in their judgements, but even he had to admit he had handled the situation poorly.

He realised almost immediately after Ginny and Gideon left, that he should have confronted his parents. His family was very important to him, and he had always strived to make them proud. Turning down their choice of bride had been the first time Viktor had balked against their wishes, and they hadn't taken the news well.

"I speak to them." He murmured against the silky strands of Ginny's hair, and held her just a bit tighter.

"You've been saying that for years. I can't…"

"No, I speak with them. I tell them of my son. I tell them of you. Anka," Ginny stiffened noticeably, and Viktor's large hands smoothed the wrinkles of Ginny's dress down her back, "Anka marry Muggle man, cause big fights. Parents say bring you home."

"I can't return with you if you're going to allow your parents to dictate every facet of your life. It isn't fair to me, nor to Gideon to be treated the way we have. I deserve better. He deserves better. He's your son, and I'm…" Ginny choked on her words, unable to continue.

She knew she wasn't the perfect Bulgarian bride his parents had imagined. She knew she wasn't refined. She knew she was loud and abrasive. It was the sort of thing that happened when you're raised with six older brothers. Ginevra Weasley wasn't the sort of witch to make apologies for her upbringing, she simply wanted to love accepted as exactly as she is.

"You are mine."

It took a moment for the words to permeate Ginny's hurt, but when she did, she pulled away from the soothing sound of Viktor's heartbeat, and studied his dark eyes. She couldn't see the falsehood in his eyes, but she was cautious. She wanted to believe him desperately, but she felt the past overshadowed their future.

"Viktor…"

"No. You vill come home. It is long enough now." Viktor's eyes narrowed, and Ginny sighed, just as the door to the study swung open.

"Ginny dear, you don't have to return to Bulgaria. You can stay as long as you wish." Molly Weasley's voice might have been low and soft while she cuddled her grandson, but there was fire in her eyes.

"Mama is daddy!" Gideon chortled happily, and struggled to be released.

"It's alright, mum. He's not…wrong. It has been long enough, I suppose." Ginny was quick to lift her son, and hand him to Viktor. Viktor kept an arm around Ginny's waist, while his other was filled with happy toddler.

"Ginny, I was eavesdropping, and I'm not going to apologise. If Viktor Krum is ashamed of my daughter, he has no right to demand she return to a place where she's miserable. I shan't stand for it! It's bad enough he got you in a family way and…"

Molly continued in her litany of reasons her daughter should remain in England, but Ginny was no longer listening. A soft-eyed Viktor was stroking her cheek, while Gideon placed slobbery kisses on both his parent's faces. Viktor bent and kissed her, completely ignoring Molly's indignant snorts near the door.

"Mum, really, it's alright." Ginny sighed the moment her lips were freed.

"How can it be alright?!" Molly shrieks were gathering quite the little audience in the corridor, but she was long past caring.

"I'm his wife."

* * *

Fred Weasley nervously paced the bedchamber, with his heart in his throat. He continuously ran his fingers through his long red hair, completely destroying the curls his sister had gifted him. He ignored the idle chatter around him and attempted to gaze down into the garden, only to find his path blocked by a stubborn Hermione Malfoy.

"Fred, I've already told you, it's bad luck. Stop fussing with your hair. It's nearly time to step into your gown." Hermione wrenched his fingers from his hair and held his hands tight. "I know you're nervous, but you've got to breathe."

"What was I thinking? I can't get married. I'm not ready." Fred's breaths were short and fast, and it was obvious he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Look at me." Hermione dragged Fred toward the settee in the corner, farthest from his mother and sister. "When I married Malfoy, I was nearly a disaster. I wasn't even certain who I was, and love? Well, that wasn't even part of the equation. It's different for you. You are Fred Weasley. Blaise Zabini loves you, otherwise he wouldn't be down in the garden sweating himself silly. He's bent to your every whim. I mean, think of it. He ordered your brother to wear a gown, to make you happy. He'd move heaven and earth for you, and you can't do better than that. Now, drink a Calming Potion, allow Ginny to fix your hair, and let's get you married." Hermione leaned forward and kissed his cheek with a small smile.

Despite her misgivings, Molly was proving to be the perfect mother of the bride, or was it groom? She still wasn't quite sure, but it didn't matter. Her son was happy, and that's all she wanted.

"Fred darling, Blaise sent you a little gift. It's in that box on the bureau." Molly gestured toward the wide, beige box, which just so happened to sport a green bow.

Fred clasped his dressing gown closed with one hand and hurried toward it. He gazed down upon the box as if it were a lifeline to his love. With bated breath, Fred lifted the lid, and immediately segued into laughter.

"For your cold feet." Fred chuckled, placed the card on top of the bureau, and removed a handful of colourful socks.

"He really understands you." Molly blinked, as if the thought had just occurred to her, and averted her eyes from her son's cleavage.

"Mum, he gave me breasts, of course he understands me." Fred rolled his eyes as he sifted through the half dozen pairs of obnoxious socks.

"He'll probably discover a way to give you a lovely pregnancy as well. Why you would want one, I haven't the slightest, but Blaise Zabini would do anything to make you happy." Ginny dabbed the corner of her eye with a handkerchief, and spun the ornate ring on her finger.

"I still can't believe she married Viktor Krum, and kept it from us." Hermione was forced into an armchair, beside an equally disgruntled Tonks. She was fond of her mother-in-law, but Narcissa's overbearing nature was going to drive her absolutely batty.

"Hermione, they're treating us like invalids, nothing surprises me anymore." Nymphadora's hair was a blinding shade of red, and even Andromeda had enough sense to give her daughter a wide berth.

"I hope you give birth on Harry's birthday." Hermione snarled, and angrily crossed her arms over her extended abdomen, with a heavy frown.

"I hope Astoria gives birth on yours." Tonks adjusted in her armchair until she could no longer see Hermione, and focused on Fred stepping into his gown.

"Ladies, there is no need for such unpleasantries." Narcissa Malfoy, in all her regal finery, clapped her perfectly manicured fingers and a trio of elves arrived, carrying silver trays filled with delicacies. "Eat, and when you find yourselves perturbed, close your eyes and imagine Fred's bridesmaids opening their dress boxes."

While the ladies tittered and nibbled finger sandwiches, Harry, Ron, and George stared at the monstrous boxes laid near the hearth in absolute terror. Draco and Blaise sipped tumblers of firewhiskey, while Lucius and Langston held stilted conversations near the bay window overlooking the garden.

"Aren't you going to open them?!" Sullivan Fawley tugged on his waistcoat just before he snuck a flute off champagne off the buffet.

"Are you sure he's of age? I'm fairly certain I've met Fourth Years more mature." Draco drawled lazily, while wondering if he could sneak down the corridor and peak in on his wife.

"He's excited, leave him alone. Go on then, Potter." Blaise gestured with his tumbler, with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Uhm, I think Ron should go first." Harry slapped Ron's back, and evaded the flailing arm aimed toward his head.

"Excellent idea! Go on then, Ickle Ronnikins." George wiggled his red eyebrows, enjoying the absolute horror on his youngest brother's face.

Ronald Weasley approached the large white box as though he were walking to his death. He swallowed hard, nearly wishing he were walking into the Forbidden Forest, as he kneeled beside his box. With shaking hands, he lifted the lid, and immediately closed his eyes.

He glowered at Harry and ever so gently grasped the bodice of the plum monstrosity. Tiers upon tiers of tulle and satin swirled against him as he stood, his gown billowing out around him, as his face reddened considerably.

"I'm having a bit of déjà vu actually. That dress…sort of reminds me of your Dress Robes. D'ya remember that George?" Harry downed his firewhiskey quickly, hoping Ron's gown was the worst of the bunch.

"Oh yes, but I must admit this particular gown is missing that delectable shroud of lace." George stroked the side of his chin with two fingers, and carefully contemplated his youngest brother with a barely concealed grin.

"Is does bring out the colour in his eyes, you've got to admit that."

"Hmm yes, but, does it have a bonnet?" George winked at Harry, and Ron hurriedly dropped his gown as his freckled hands searched the box.

"Oh it does, George! Isn't that lovely?" Harry snickered, nearly forgetting he would be forced into a delightful gown as well.

"It hasn't straps. How is it supposed to stay up? I can't wear this! I'm telling mum!" Ron bellowed angrily and hurled the fascinator across the study.

"Who do you think helped Narcissa chose the gowns? Go on then, I'm sure there's some sort of corset to keep it up, and if not, perhaps mum will magick you some breasts." George tripped over his own box, his eyes glancing down quickly. "Great Godric, it's flowered! They're putting me in bloody flowers?"

George's voice reached painful octaves while he yanked his gown from its box. The delicate cream ruffles decorating the hem were completely overshadowed by the shimmery lavender chiffon, and the large dusky-rose flowers covering the bodice.

"It's got less layers than Ron's, if that's any consolation." Harry shrugged, which quickly turned into a shout when Ron hurled a dress filled box at Harry's head. "That was unnecessary."

Harry rubbed his scar, but only due to the fact, the corner of the box had struck him. He impatiently wrenched the tissue paper from his dress, and nearly smiled. While Harry Potter wasn't the sort of bloke that had ever worn a dress, at least his was pretty.

"Well, yours is alright then. This isn't bloody fair at all! I was forced to wear the most hideous Dress Robes in the history of Hogwarts, and Harry Potter looked like his were perfectly made for him!" Ron waved his arms, bellowing quite loudly, despite Lucius Malfoy's narrowed eyes. "Now it seems my brother Fred has demanded we wear dresses. Dresses! My dress reminds me of my bloody Great-Aunt Tessie, but oh look, it's Harry Potter, and he looks like a fucking princess."

Harry held the shimmering gown in his hands with quite a bit of awe. The bodice was nearly the colour of a Golden Snitch, while the skirts were merely a few tiers of tulle and chiffon, perfectly melding ivory and golden flecks. He stared at the splashes of gold near the hem, nearly certain they were similarly shaped to his scar, which wouldn't have surprised him overly much, and he smiled.

"I always knew Potter was a fairy." Lucius sniffed haughtily and returned his attention to his dwindling bottle of Ogden's with a sneer.

* * *

Hermione Malfoy carefully stepped into her gown while hidden in the washroom. She simply wanted a few moments of peace, and the washroom was her best bet for such things. She smiled upon feeling the silk against her skin, pleased with the high waist. Hermione delighted in the lace of her bodice, though she still thought it bared entirely too much skin, Narcissa could not be dissuaded.

"Hermione, let me in." Nymphadora's desperate whisper drew Hermione out of her haze of happiness and she sighed. "Ohh, you look lovely. Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a moment of silence, or a moment that didn't involve my mum and Aunt Cissy discussing the size of my waist."

"I understand completely." Hermione firmly shut the door behind Tonks, only for there to be yet another rapid knock. "For Merlin's sake, I'm going to see to Fred."

Hermione nearly bumped into Astoria, who seemed to be hiding from an irate witch she didn't recognise. She gasped, and covered her mouth with both hands upon discerning the witch, was in fact Ronald Weasley. It seemed an angry George, and completely resigned Harry followed closely behind.

"You look even better than I imagined!" Fred Weasley gasped, his palms flat on his breasts, with a shine of bliss in his brown eyes.

Hermione stifled a small grin as she saw Ron and George's ire completely deflate. They looked to her in a pleading sort of manner, but she only offered a half shrug. It was Fred's wedding day, they couldn't disappoint him, and she had faith in them.

"Is it strange that I'm quite attracted to Harry in that gown?" Tonks peeked over Hermione's shoulder with a sultry little moan lodged in her throat.

"Yes, stop it. It's time."

Molly clung to Narcissa, which Hermione found quite odd, but held her tongue. She gasped while her children tumbled about, waking from their short kip. She felt tears of happiness prick her dark eyes while Ginny and Astoria fussed over Fred's breathtakingly long cathedral train.

Molly Weasley, in the finest gown Hermione had ever seen adorn the older witch, stepped forward with an ornate tiara in her hands. The diamonds glinted in the low light, while Molly placed it on her son's head just so. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion Blaise had nicked the Luxemburg Empire Tiara, but she would not ruin the Weasley-Zabini wedding with her suspicions.

Fred stared at himself for a moment in the floor length mirror, turning to and fro. His palms brushed over his ample breasts encased in a crystal encrusted bodice, with a flattering sweetheart neckline. The intricate embroidery leading up to the small straps drew ones eyes away from his breasts, which was appreciated by all.

Hermione and Tonks trailed behind a nervous Fred and Molly, allowing the other witches to calm his nerves. Hermione had to admit, his gown truly was divine. It was slightly ostentatious for her tastes, but it truly suited Fred's outlandish personality.

The satin, underlying the cream organza petals, was magnificent. The tiers of petals were nearly endless, and Hermione lost count as they strolled through the Manor toward the back garden. She was amazed by the fact the tip of each petal was littered with beading and crystals, and the back of his gown was daringly low, but it was perfect.

The throng of guests had already been seated by Narcissa's demand, and they knew better than to balk. She offered her arm to Hermione, and she took it gratefully. Her feet were already screaming, and she wished nothing more than to sit and watch Fred marry Blaise.

Ginny, Astoria and Tonks hurried down the aisle to take their seats near the front. Hermione knew from the set of their smiles and the devil in their eyes, numerous photographs would be taken. She glanced toward Blaise, and was pleased to see he was staring at the peacocks in the distance, rather than chancing a glance upon his bride.

Draco's blank features softened, and he broke with tradition. He left Blaise standing near the arbor in order to escort his wife to her seat. Lucius may have rolled his eyes and received the harsh end of an elbow, but Hermione thought it was sweet.

"I'm surprised mother dressed you in gray." Draco murmured near her ear, just before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"My knickers are green." Hermione offered with a smile full of promise.

"I love you." Draco smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes, which were her very favourite.

"Love you back."

Draco hurried to his place beside Blaise and was shocked to discover a trio of wizards, walking quickly in single file, between the white cushioned chairs. He smothered a snicker upon spying the ridiculous fascinator perched upon Ronald Weasley's unkempt hair, but he had to admit, it matched his gown. George looked particularly offended, and Draco didn't blame him, as the poor bloke had flowers in his hair as well as on his gown.

Harry Potter however, had no such qualms. He literally swayed down the narrow aisle, and smiled at his fiancée. His gold gloves were better than the hats the other bridesmaids were forced to wear, and Draco nearly whooped with glee when the photographers took numerous pictures of Harry's sashay.

And then, there was Fred. Draco clamped his hand onto Blaise's shoulder. The gesture was their minute signal that allowed Blaise to know Fred had indeed arrived. He whispered in his mate's ear, describing Fred's gown with difficulty, but he knew Blaise appreciated the gesture. Draco was quite impressed by Fred Weasley's ability to calmly walk down the aisle in blue stiletto heels while on the arm of his father, but it was Severus Snape that finally broke the stunned silence.

"Sweet Salazar, give me strength." Severus Snape's harsh whisper caused Blaise to stiffen, but a quick squeeze from Draco had him relaxing once more. "Draco, please inform your mother I shall not be doing her any further favours. I do believe I've reached my limit."

"Obviously." Draco dryly replied.

"That's my line."

* * *

Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini hid in the shadows while the hired photographers spent their time barraging Fred Zabini with questions. The meal had been eaten. The dances had been danced. The cake had been cut. They had done all that was necessary to solidify their union, therefore Blaise deemed it necessary to drink the night away in peace.

"You realise there's going to be rumours tomorrow about us." Draco snickered, terribly amused to see Astoria dancing with Ronald Weasley. Their dresses were nearly complimentary, but it was still quite a hilarious sight.

"I married a man with breasts. He's wearing the most ostentatious gown I've ever seen, and it looks lovely on him. He sent me a photograph of his wedding night ensemble, and frankly I'm a bit terrified." Blaise cast a glance over his shoulder, but the only people within range were Hermione and Sullivan, which didn't bother him in the least.

"Tell me he's going to wear a sheer nightie and stockings." Draco tossed his head back and laughed into the night sky.

"Worse. He's planning on sporting a red leather skirt of questionable length, not to mention the corset top type thing…"

"Bustier." Hermione interjected while she painstakingly taught Sullivan the waltz.

"Yeah, whatever Granger. It's gold. He's got a red and gold whip and…"

"Flogger." Sullivan offered with a knowing grin that caused his sister to smack his chest.

"I don't care!" Blaise growled. "The shoes are fucking glorious though. I wouldn't mind…"

"Please stop talking." Draco begged quite sincerely. "I'm sorry I asked. Wife, I'd like to retire for the evening." He casually stood and waited for Sullivan to deliver her.

"I'd like to say goodbye to Ginny and Viktor first. Ginny said they're leaving tomorrow, and Gideon is just the sweetest little boy and…" Hermione wrung her hands, knowing it was long past the time she promised they'd leave.

"Sullivan, would you escort my wife to say her goodbyes. I haven't the constitution to wander through the throng yet again." Draco kissed her brow, and lovingly stroked the dark gray silk covering her abdomen. "Don't be too long, love."

He watched his wife chat with her brother. He observed Langston Fawley doing the same, and offered the man a slow nod before returning his attentions to Blaise.

"I see you're over your little tantrum then, though I do wish you'd stop eye-fucking your wife in front of me." Blaise faux shuddered, with a small grin.

"It wasn't a tantrum. I admit, I might have been…slightly petulant, but I'm spoiled, we all know that much. I'm Pureblood. I'm an only child, and now I'm simply expected to… _share_." Draco spat the word as if it were filth in his mouth, and Blaise decided it was in his best interest to change the subject.

"Fred's been pestering me about a child. I know we've got Elliot, but Fred keeps blathering on about experiencing true motherhood, whatever that means." Blaise sighed, but there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

"What have you done?" Draco sighed with resignation, knowing he was going to regret ever having asked the question.

"I've been working on a spell since he first mentioned it. Don't ask questions, it's better that way." Blaise winked, and Draco stifled a moan.

"This isn't going to end well, it never does when you say such things." Draco wiped the light sheen of sweat from his forehead and shook his head slowly, envisioning tomcats screeching from the force of kittens kicking within them.

"Worked out well enough for you." Blaise waggled his fingers toward his new spouse, while Fred and Elliot danced among their guests, and his heart was full.

"Touché."

* * *

 _One Year Later_

* * *

"It worked! I can't believe it. It actually worked!" Fred Zabini literally danced into the opulent sitting room, with a grand smile upon his face.

"What are you going on about?" Blaise adjusted in his seat near the hearth, rustling the pages of the Daily Prophet with slight annoyance.

"I'm pregnant!"


	25. The Epilogue

**AN: And this is it folks. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I do hope you've enjoyed it.**

 **Until we meet again. *kisses***

* * *

The Epilogue

* * *

 _Five Years Later_

* * *

Hermione Malfoy happily flipped through the pages of the latest book on Law Reform. She snuggled into her nest of pillows near the window, and propped the tome on her knees, carefully taking notes. She hadn't the slightest idea how long she had been lost in her own thoughts, but it quickly came to an end.

"Mummy! There you are! I found Mummy!" Scorpius Malfoy was the spitting image of his father, except for his eyes.

He was completely nonplussed by his mother's loud sigh, and climbed directly into her lap. He pushed the book from Hermione's knees, and cuddled into her side. Scorpius tugged on his mother's dark hair, demanding her attention.

"Scorpius, you've better manners than that." Hermione gently chided her son, quickly adjusting him in her lap.

"Yeah, but I couldn't find you, and Posey was like Mummy's reading leave her alone, and I didn't wanna, but I found you." Scorpius patted his mother's tummy, and promptly fell asleep.

"I told him not to bother you." Draco rolled his eyes from the doorjamb, but had no plans to remove his incorrigible son. "You've been in here nearly all day, you realise?"

"Yes, but I spent most of that time sleeping. I'm just so tired this go 'round. Where's Posey? Is she with your mother?" Hermione yawned and stretched her hands over her head. She ruffled her son's platinum locks with a wry grin.

"She's with my father, actually. She's obsessed with his bloody peacocks. The Potters are due for dinner soon. I'm not looking forward to their monsters running about the Manor."

"Bollocks. I completely forgot. I invited Fred and Blaise for dinner."

"My parents are going to murder us. Why the hell do we still live here?" Draco whined, which while it wasn't his most attractive quality, it definitely wasn't his worst.

"Convenience. I can work from home, yet still be involved with the children. We can throw lavish dinner parties and invite all of our friends, rather than having to choose, not to mention the fact you love it here. Don't even get me started on the fact you wished us to live here in the first place, and once I finally agreed, now you complain. Seems there's no pleasing you." Hermione was quite matter of fact in her response, and Draco accepted it easily, as she wasn't wrong.

"How's my boy today?" Draco carefully invaded her pillow nest, and rested his head upon her breast.

"It could be a girl." Hermione sighed while gazing upon her two towheaded boys.

"Mmmhmmm, I know. I just like to rile you up. How many children do you want? Have we ever discussed it before?" Draco was absolutely thrilled to discover the love of his life was carrying yet another of his children, but he felt Hermione was a bit more reserved.

"Honestly? I thought we were done after the twins were born, not that I regret this one or anything, but I can't see myself with more." Hermione frowned, knowing his thoughts differed on the matter, but she wished to be honest with him.

"Hm, well, can we just have more than Potter?" Draco kissed the side of Hermione's neck and licked her earlobe, teasing her.

"Harry's already got three. We're even."

"Tonks is pregnant."

"Oh, I do hope they'll have a girl this go round." Hermione sighed happily, her blinks growing longer.

"I'd like two of each, but I'd like a girl to be our last. I like the idea of her having older brothers to look after her."

"Damn you. I can't even argue with that." Hermione groaned, and forced her eyes open. "We're having a boy."

* * *

James Hagrid Potter was playing a delightful game of 'Hide from My Father'. Of course, his father wasn't aware he was a participant, but James didn't let little things like actualities get in his way. He giggled as he ran through Malfoy Manor, dragging his younger brother Sirius with him.

Teddy had declared himself entirely too old to play such childish games, but he was dedicated to misdirection whenever his parents drew near his younger brothers. He knew Harry wasn't technically his father, but it was all he'd ever known, and he wasn't interested in changing his perception.

"Where the hell are they, Teddy?" Harry yanked on his dark hair, absolutely certain his sons were going to force him into premature grayness.

"They're hiding in the sunroom, but you didn't hear that from me." Teddy nonchalantly returned to his book with barely a glance in Harry's direction.

"James! You get back here! Would you stop it? Dammit, I'm serious!"

Sirius Brian Potter snickered from his hiding place behind a potted plant. He stepped out on his chubby toddler legs, and tugged on his father's pants.

"No, I Sirius." He chortled happily and ran away before Harry could snatch him up.

"Your Seeker skills have floundered, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry sneered, and Draco was almost impressed. Almost. "Tonks! I swear I'm going to tie them to a bloody chair!" Harry stormed through the Manor, and did little more than nod at Lucius while he sought his wife.

Lucius Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, and silently counted to ten, in Latin, as it would take him longer. The irritating sound of children running and shouting through the Manor, was not a sound Lucius missed, as his own son was grown. His wife, on the other hand, was bloody delighted, as she had always wished to bear more than one child.

He retreated to the safety of his study, knowing the silence within would be short lived. Lucius knew it was only a matter of time before Blaise Zabini joined him, which didn't bother him nearly at all. The wizard only wished for a bit of silence as well, and considering he was married to Fred, who could blame him?

"Thank the gods." Langston Fawley slipped into darkened study with a loud sigh of relief. "I don't know how you stand it. Elliot Zabini is chasing the Potter boys, Josephine is screeching because they refuse to allow her to play. Georgina is pulling on Rose's hair, and I need a drink." He stumbled toward the dry bar and poured himself a liberal firewhiskey, neat.

"Hello Langston, lovely to see you. A drink? Of course, you can have a drink."

"Oh sarcasm, delightful. I see you've been taking lessons from our children."

Langston and Lucius glared at each other over the tops of crystal tumblers, yet it was without true animosity. Lucius had become used to the man's company over the years, and preferred it to being surrounded by Weasleys.

"I gather the Zabini's and the Potter's have arrived, isn't that grand." Lucius uttered the phrase in such a way there was no mistaking the fact he did not think it was grand in the least.

"Astoria and Ronald decided to pop in as well. Sullivan distracted them, otherwise I'd be forced to converse, and I'd rather not listen to aimless chatter about nappies." The blue eyes of Langston Fawley stared at the door, expecting it to burst open, and Lucius understood his pain.

"Do you suppose…it would be…uncouth…to retreat to the dungeons? I happen to know they're completely abandoned, and with a few waves of a wand, perhaps we could create quite a niche." Lucius flicked his long, blonde hair over his shoulder, while he carefully slipped into his cloak.

He stepped toward the floor to ceiling bookcase, and glanced over his shoulder toward Langston. The other wizard's eyes slid toward him, curious. Lucius nearly smiled, and tapped his wand against a nondescript Potions tome.

"I must admit, I'm quite intrigued. I'm quite fond of Hermione, don't tell her this…" Langston paused, and nervously looked to the door before continuing, "but, Merlin she never stops talking. I haven't the slightest idea how she wasn't Sorted to Ravenclaw, but even we enjoy the silences." He sagged against the handcrafted mahogany desk, as if the confession sapped his strength.

"Welcome to the family, Langston." Lucius smirked and stepped into the musty secret passage, knowing Hermione Granger's father would follow.

* * *

"Scorpius Hugo Malfoy!" Draco absolutely refused to chase his son, yet he wasn't against utilising a Freezing Charm. "If you so much as look at your grandfather's peacocks, I will not hesitate to ban you from biscuits until your receive your Hogwarts letter, and take back the broom I purchased for your birthday."

Scorpius gasped, his brown eyes wide with child like horror. Draco struggled to maintain his stoic features while Scorpius dragged James back toward the Manor. He kept a careful eye on his little Posey, knowing Josephine loved to torture Rose whenever the adults were preoccupied. He had already bet Potter ten galleons the twins would be Sorted to Slytherin, though they kept such things from Hermione.

"Hugo is right awful." Ron Weasley waggled his fingers at his dark haired daughter, pleased as punch she looked exactly like her mother.

"Don't start with me, Weasley." Draco desperately searched the garden for someone, anyone to save him from his least favourite Weasley, but the girls pretended the men folk didn't exist.

"It really is though. Thank Merlin it's not his first name."

"Oh shut up, would you? Granger still hasn't forgive you for stealing Rose." Draco arched an eyebrow, content to see Ron's cheeks pinken.

"Stealing Rose," Ron scoffed, " you're ridiculous. It's a name. I can't steal it." He seemed quite proud of himself for thinking of such a retort on his own.

"Yeah? Would you like to say that to Hermione's face?" Draco gestured toward the ladies scattered around the garden, with a bit of a sardonic smile.

Ronald Weasley gulped loudly, and strangely enough, he raised his head and met the eyes of a curious Hermione. He tilted his head to the side and cupped his ear, while looking toward the Manor.

"Oh, what's that? Yes, right away love! Sorry, got to be going."

Draco wasn't the least bit surprised to see Ron Weasley amble toward the Manor, as far from Hermione as possible. It amused him just a bit more than it should, but such was life. He sighed happily, quite pleased with himself.

"Were you terrorizing my husband again?" Astoria Weasley spoke quietly at Draco's elbow, causing the man to flinch in surprise.

"Yes, yes I was. You don't get to scold me about it either. There are very few things in life that bring me as much joy as irritating your husband."

Astoria huffed and rolled her eyes, just as he expected. He watched her waddle away, her burden low, and he vaguely wondered when the next Weasley was due to join the world. Instead of dwelling upon such things however, he traipsed through the garden, and whisked his wife along the path littered with white roses.

"I still don't like sharing you." He muttered, with his hand low on her back, and a kiss to her brow.

"I know." Hermione sighed, and her hands naturally rested on her stomach, the way most pregnant women's hands did. "This isn't anything new. We've had this argument for years." She braced herself, expecting yet another row, but it didn't come.

"I don't wish to argue. I was simply stating a fact. I detest sharing you, but I do it, because I love you." Draco grasped her to his chest and kissed her long and hard, despite his mother's snort and murmurs about impropriety.

"I love you, you know I do." Hermione pressed her cheek against his freshly starched sky blue shirt, and closed her eyes for a moment.

"He's kicking you. I can feel it." Draco smiled, a real smile, and Hermione decided it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Yes, he does that quite often. Oh look, Sullivan is here, and the Zabinis as well. Would you do me a favour and have a bit of a chat with Sully? He seems to think there's nothing more to life than serial dating. I do wish he'd settle down, or at least stick with a witch for longer than a few weeks." Hermione tutted with that quiet disapproval Draco was accustomed too.

Slowly, as if he didn't wish to part from her company, Draco led his wife back to the flock of cackling witches and excused himself. He could feel Hermione's dark eyes lingering on his back, and knew her libido would keep them up until the wee small hours of the morning.

"Oi, Sullivan!" Draco called to his brother-in-law, and the dark haired wizard sauntered over with a jaunt in his step. "Don't swagger about. Your sister has been nagging me incessantly about your voracious appetite for pretty witches."

"You'd think she'd never lived a little." Sullivan Fawley rolled his blue eyes, and shook his head, before clasping hands with Draco. "Surely you understand a young bloke's need to play the field a bit."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. I've never done such a thing in my entire life. I've been completely devoted to Hermione from the moment I met her, and I've never looked at another witch twice." Draco staunchly replied with utter and complete seriousness.

"You're also a fucking liar." Sullivan laughed heartily and shook his head.

He had adjusted amazingly well to having an older sister, but he knew as well as anyone else, how bloody overbearing Hermione could be. He didn't mind it, not really. It was nice to have someone care about him so much, but Sullivan always thought she needed to relax a bit, not that he'd ever tell her.

"You're Hufflepuff. You're supposed to be loyal and loving and all that mushy sort of nonsense." Draco waved to Blaise and Fred, while still attempting to frown heavily at Sullivan, for Hermione's sake.

"I am loyal, disgustingly loyal actually. I adore every witch I twist beneath the sheets for as long as she's there. I never speak poorly of her afterwards either, what more do you want from me?" Sullivan waggled his fingers toward Georgina, smiling as she toddled toward him.

"I want you to keep your fucking face out of the Daily Prophet so I can stop discussing your sex life." Draco growled and hefted Georgina Zabini on his hip, before she ran off to try and hug the peacocks.

"Noted." Sully shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and decided it was as good a time as any to say hello to his sister.

Blaise Zabini was carefully aiding his very pregnant husband toward a lawn chair. Fred grunted and groaned as he sunk onto the white cushioned chair, sighing as he stretched his legs in front of him. Blaise grit his teeth and smiled prettily toward the relaxing witches, and immediately sought out Draco.

"Save me. You've got to save me. I don't know how much longer I can do this." Blaise hissed angrily, but he kissed his daughter's dark hair and set her in the grasses the moment Posey and Rose approached.

"What do you mean?" Draco led his mate away by the elbow and turned the corner of the Manor to remain out of sight.

"Fred is driving me mad. I love him. I adore him. Georgina and Elliot are our lives, but this pregnancy is going to be the end of me. I swear it." Blaise scratched his black hair, and it was then Draco noted the tell tale signs of exhaustion.

"I told you. Your spells breed nothing but trouble. I mean sure, everything works out well in the end. I'm perfectly happy being married to Hermione, but the path to get here was…unnecessary. You were over the moon when Georgina was born, of course Fred was going to want another child. I can't believe you didn't see that coming." Draco snickered, amused by his mate's distress.

"I thought it would be a one time sort of thing. He claimed he simply wished to experience the miracle of having a child grow within him. The complications of maintaining his magical womb were extraordinary. The Ministry nearly had my head for dabbling in what they considered Gray Magic. I didn't think he'd want to do it again! We had to apply for a bloody Permit, Malfoy. Apparently, the Spell I created is being utilised by the Ministry to aid couples unable to conceive." Blaise was breathing quite hard, and Draco would have been concerned, but he knew the poor wizard simply needed to express his outrage.

"You should be thrilled. It isn't often new Spells are created with such advantageous results. I know for a fact, Hermione was quite miffed, and a bit jealous to see you published before she did."

Blaise was pleased, and a tingle ran through his entire body. He'd never had anyone be envious of him before, and knowing the great Hermione Malfoy née Granger, was irritated with him? Well, it was better than Yule.

"I suppose I'll have to come to terms with the fact that I finally bested Hermione Granger in something. I feel better now, thank you." Blaise puffed out his chest, and smirked happily.

"It's Malfoy. Hermione Malfoy, for Circe's sake, do not get her started on that hyphenated bullshit again." Draco rolled his grey eyes skyward, though they narrowed quickly when he saw Elliot draw his wand. "Your son better not jinx my son, Zabini."

"Elliot! Put it away or I'll snap it!" Blaise bellowed and Elliot Zabini had enough sense to look properly chastised, even as he hid his wand behind his back. "That boy is Slytherin as the day is long. How he wound up in Gryffindor is anyone's guess."

"The Weasley twins were Gryffindor as well, but they really should have been Slytherin. I think the Sorting hat is getting up there in age. Perhaps we should petition the Ministry to allow you to create a new spell for Sorting." Draco winked and dragged an unwilling Blaise toward the women. "If you're nice to me, I'll show you my father's new hiding place in the dungeons."

"Don't tease me with silence, Malfoy."

Fred Zabini smiled happily, his cheeks brightening the moment he observed his husband and Draco coming to join them. He knew he had been completely out of sorts lately, but that sort of thing happened near the end of pregnancy. His hormones had run completely amuck, and he was tired of pretending otherwise.

"I can't believe we're all pregnant together." Nymphadora Potter patted her abnormally small bump, and shoved a biscuit between her red lips.

"Again, you forgot the again. Although, I must admit, I am absolutely thrilled to only have a single passenger this go 'round." Hermione stretched her hands over head, causing her daisy yellow smock to stretch across her growing breasts until a button popped off, and landed in Fred's tea. "Bugger."

"I think after this one, I'm done. Ron doesn't want a large family of our own, and I completely respect that. Stuart Weasley will be the last one for us."

Astoria nodded happily, while Tonks and Hermione shared a knowing glance. Astoria had said the same thing the moment Rose was born, but they pretended to nod, and agree with her. It was easier that way.

"My back is bloody killing me." Fred groaned, and it seemed he was in a fair amount of pain.

"It's your own fault. No one told you to do this…again." Blaise took the seat beside his husband, and kneaded the bundle of nerves low in Fred's back, as he knew exactly where the pain lived.

"You don't love me anymore because I'm all fat, that's the real problem, isn't it?" Fred sniffled noisily, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

"You're being ridiculous, Fred." Blaise offered his handkerchief, and desperately looked to Hermione to save him from yet another emotional disagreement.

"Oh, now I'm ridiculous. It's nice to know what my husband thinks of me!" Fred grimaced with a hand immediately dropping to the Quaffle beneath his tent-like print blouse.

"Have a biscuit, Fred. You'll feel better." Hermione pushed the plate towards Fred, hoping to distract him with food, as it had always worked with her.

"Oh…a biscuit sounds lovely." Fred smiled happily, Blaise sighed with relief, while Draco and Sullivan snickered safely out of range from a Hermione's hand, as they didn't wish to be smacked.

Later, after the impromptu group of witches and wizards had feasted upon an eclectic menagerie of pregnancy pleasing delicacies, Narcissa Malfoy's shrewd eyes continuously narrowed every time Fred winced. She pursed her lips together, and formulated the proper words before speaking. She knew she would have to tread delicately due to Fred's current emotional unbalances.

"Blaise, darling. I do think your…husband is in labor." She smiled prettily and sent the nearest house elf for a decanter of firewhiskey.

"Fuck." Blaise muttered.

"Hmm yes, I do think that's what landed you lot in your current predicament." Lucius smiled cheerily, as he and Langston were well into their cups.

"Really, Lucius?!" Narcissa shrieked, shattering her composed Pureblood image, even as Blaise rounded the dining table to aid Fred to the Floo.

"It's true. You're not quite so old that we can't grace the Wizarding World with another Malfoy." Lucius wiggled his eyebrows in a blatant lascivious manner, and Narcissa nearly had steam rising from her ears.

"Draco, please escort Blaise and Fred to St. Mungo's. You know Blaise has a tendency to stutter when he's anxious, and I don't wish to be forced to scour London searching for them again." Narcissa grit her teeth, and pointed harshly.

She nearly relaxed when dining chairs began scraping against the floor, as her guests scurried to do her bidding. She snatched the decanter of firewhiskey from the elf and poured herself an impressively large glass. Lucius spied an opportunity to refill his tumbler, but his irritated wife was slapping his hands away.

"I'll go with them." Hermione moved slowly, not because she needed too, but due to Draco's concern the moment she stood.

Hermione easily grasped Fred's elbow, and whispered encouragingly. He was breathing quite heavily, and the sweat beading on his brow seemed to make everyone nervous. She patted his hand reassuringly and stepped into the Floo with him, leaving Draco to deal with Blaise and Elliot.

Hours upon hours later, Frederick Blaise Zabini entered the world via magic, squalling angrily. Hermione napped in a chaise the Mediwitches had provided for her, managing to sleep through the child's cries. Draco envied her gift, and covered her with a thin blanket.

"Frederick? Really?" Draco peered down at his godchild with a smile frown.

"Oi, I wanted to name the little tyke Blaise Zabini the Second, but…he's a ginger." Blaise whispered as he stared down with a reverence, Draco completely understood.

"I think you should bear the next child." Draco poked the shriveled pink fingers, a hint of a smile gracing his lips when the tiny fist clenched.

"I think you should shut your fucking mouth." Blaise said the words so sweetly, but Draco knew better. "I need to get drunk."

"That's particularly irresponsible of you." Draco quipped, but nodded and flashed Blaise the flask of firewhiskey he had smuggled into St. Mungo's with a conspiratorial grin.

It was an easy matter to place the newborn in the cot beside Fred's hospital bed. They slipped quietly through the door, leaving strict instructions for the Mediwitches to allow Fred and Hermione to sleep. A storage room set at the end of the corridor was suitable for their needs, and it didn't take long for the effects of the firewhiskey to take over.

"You know what would be fun?" Blaise smiled happily and twirled his wand, while he sat upon a discarded patient bed in the corner.

"No. I don't want to hear it." Draco groaned and rested his heavy head upon his knees while he sat upon the cold floor.

"Yes you do. You love my ideas. They're the best ideas that ever existed. My ideas landed you Granger." Blaise swayed slightly on the bed, as the stress of the day melted away on a wave of amber spirits.

"You're drunk."

"Yes, yes I am. Anyway, you know what would be fun?" Blaise dropped his wand, and nearly fell onto his head in his efforts to retrieve it.

"I've already said no." Draco grasped onto a nearby hospital cart, and heaved his weary body to its feet.

"I've got an idea."

"I don't want to hear it." Draco Malfoy squinted hard, but managed to discern the door handle, even in his haze.

"Yes you do. Imagine it…"

"No. I said no. No means no, Zabini!" Draco twisted the handle, wincing as it struck the wall, and stuck there. It didn't stop him from staggering down the corridor, far from the intoxicated ideas of Blaise Zabini.

"Stop walking away…Malfoy!"


End file.
